When Harry Met Yoda
by Traban16
Summary: A long time ago, the night Harry Potter came across Yoda was the same night that everything changed for the galaxy far, far away...
1. The Exile of Yoda…

**Chapter 1: The Exile of Yoda…**

* * *

Beyond the transparent crystal of the observation dome on the airless crags of Polis Massa, the galaxy wheeled in a spray of hard, cold pinpricks through the veil of infinite night.

Beneath that dome sat one diminutive ancient Grandmaster of the Jedi Order.

Now former Grandmaster of the now former Jedi order.

This little green man was known to the galaxy as Yoda.

Yoda did not look at the stars above him as he would have yesterday. No, his ears sagged close to his head and he sat a very long time. Even after nearly nine hundred years, the road to self-knowledge was rugged enough to leave even a legendary figure such as him bruised and bleeding. He spoke softly, but not to himself. Though no one was with him, he better than anyone knew that he was never alone.

This was especially true at the moment.

"My failure, this was… Failed the Jedi, I did…" his words were of a broken man, but he was not yet broken. Yoda spoke to the Force. And the Force answered him.

" _Do not blame yourself, my old friend_ …" As it sometimes had these past thirteen years, when the Force spoke to him, it spoke in the voice of the radical maverick Jedi Master, Qui-Gon Jinn.

"Too old I was," Yoda voiced to the Force again, his head bowed in humility and one-part sorrow. But not sorrow for himself, for Yoda had none to give over to self when he could still feel his brothers and sisters becoming one with the Force all across the galaxy, "Too rigid. Too arrogant to see that the old way, the only way it was not. These Jedi, I trained to become the Jedi who had trained me, long centuries ago—but those ancient Jedi, of a different time they were. Changed, has the galaxy. But changed… the Order did not… Because let it change, this Yoda did not…"

" _More easily said than done, my friend_." The Force voiced to him with a small amount of amusement. Yoda felt there was no humor left after what had occurred this day.

"An infinite mystery is the Force," Yoda lifted his head and turned his gaze out into the wheel of stars. He stared into the void of space without sight, "Much to learn, there still is."

" _And you will have time to learn it_." The voice of Qui-Gon Jinn sounded around Yoda, through him, and inside the intimacy of his mind.

"Infinite knowledge…" Yoda shook his head, disturbing the wisp of few white hairs that rested atop it, "Infinite time, does that require. Infinite time, there is not."

" _With my help, you can learn to join with the Force, yet retain consciousness. You can join your light to it forever. Perhaps, in time, even your physical self_." The voice of Qui-Gon spoke with a certain amount of confidence, as though it knew the course of the future. Yoda felt a small part of himself want to remind the unconventional youth that no one knew the future, and that one could only be mindful of its path.

Yet, he remembered immediately that Qui-Gon Jinn was no longer one. He was one with the Force. And the Force knew all secrets, all truths, and all paths.

Yoda did not move a single centimeter while these thoughts passed through him. He knew before thinking that Qui-Gon knew him. The soft chuckle that penetrated his mind's ear told him this better than any knowledge of his former brother in the old Jedi Order.

"Eternal life, hmm…" that had been the ultimate goal of the Sith, yet they could never achieve it. Yoda felt it for himself as Qui-Gon supplied him with the more intimate whispers of the Force. Such power could only come by the release of self, not the acclamation of self. It came through compassion, not greed.

Love was the only answer to the darkness.

Yoda saw this now, and felt his heart warm with the caress of this knowledge from the Force. From Qui-Gon Jinn.

"Become one with the Force, yet influence still to have..." Yoda mused quietly to himself and to the ever comforting presence that bonded him to all of the galaxy around him, "A power greater than all, it is. Such a power, I deserve not to be granted."

" _It cannot be granted; it can only be taught_ ," Qui-Gon's voice, the mouthpiece that the Force wished to speak to him through, held wisdom beyond Yoda's own mundane comprehension of the word, " _It is yours to learn, if you wish it_."

And a boon from the Force, so freely and openly given would never be turned down by those who felt it. Especially not Yoda.

Slowly, ever so slowly that it was like the gentle breeze through a green pasture, did Yoda nod to the unseen presence of the Force.

"A very great Jedi Master you have become, Qui-Gon Jinn. A very great Jedi Master you always were, but too blind I was to see this." Yoda rose gracefully in his old age, and folded his hands before him. He inclined his head in the Jedi bow of respect.

The bow of the student, in the presence of the Master.

"Your apprentice, I gratefully become."

Yoda was well into his first lesson when the hatch cycled open behind him. Yoda turned slowly and deliberately toward the only entrance and exit of the small room. In the corridor beyond the open hatch stood Bail Organa.

The man looked stricken.

"Obi-Wan is asking for you at the surgical theater," he said with a pale face and shaking hands. Yoda did not have to reach through the Force in order to feel the man's nerves rattling within him. "It's Padme. She… she's dying." Yoda closed his eyes briefly, seeing without mortal sight that Obi-Wan sat beside the birthing woman, holding one cold, still hand in both of his.

Even as Yoda rose and followed the Senator into the corridor, he could still see into that room.

" _Don't give up, Padme_." Obi-Wan was using the Force to let his emotions leave him. Yoda felt the emptiness in Obi-Wan's presence in a new way. It felt wrong now that he could only see Obi-Wan like a transparent specter groping at Padme's fully present form.

Was this truly how he had blatantly ignored his Jedi, Yoda pondered as he ambled slowly beside Senator Bail. He knew it was wonderful to be the glass in which the Force filled with knowledge and clarity, but when they as sentient beings became only shadows of themselves to a higher power…

Yes, Yoda shook his head and redoubled his efforts to reach the surgery, he still had much to learn from the Force and much to reevaluate…

" _Is it_ …" Padme's eyes rolled blindly, " _It's a girl. Anakin thinks it's a girl_."

Yoda reached the surgery theatre in time to catch Obi-Wan's response in person, "We don't know yet. In a minute, though… You have to stay with us."

Below the opaque tent that shrouded her from chest down, a pair of surgical droids assisted with her labor. A general medical droid fussed and tinkered among the clutter of scanners and equipment.

"If it's… a girl—oh, oh, oh no…"

Obi-Wan cast an appeal toward the medical droid, "Can't you do something?"

"All organic damage has been repaired." the droid checked another readout, "This systemic failure cannot be explained."

Not physically, Obi-Wan thought. He squeezed Padme's hand as though he could keep life within her body by simple pressure.

"Padme, you have to hold on."

"If it's a girl," she gasped, "name her… name her Leia…"

One of the surgical droids circled out from behind the tent, cradling in its padded arms a tiny infant, already swabbed clean and breathing, but without even the hint of tears. The baby was quiet and serene as the droid announced softly, "It is a boy."

Padme reached for her first born son with her trembling free hand, but she had no strength to take him. Obi-Wan watched with detached fascination as the woman summoned strength enough from within herself to reach forward, touching her fingers to the baby's forehead like that of a religious silent blessing.

Padme smiled weakly, "Luke… My baby boy…"

The other droid now rounded the tent as well, with another clean, quietly solemn infant, "… and a girl," Obi-Wan caught Padme as her vitality drained from her. The new mother groped feebly at the air in front of her, so Obi-Wan took the girl and let her do her strange ritual wither as well, naming the child Leia before she fell back against her pillow.

"Padme, you have twins," Obi-Wan said desperately as he felt her life force flicker in and out of the Force with his hand once again enclosing her own, "They need you—please hang on."

"Anakin…"

"Anakin… is not here, Padme," he said softly at her ear, though he was not sure if she could hear him even so close while in her distraught state of emotion.

"Anakin, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry… Anakin, please, forgive… I love you, Anakin…"

In the Force, Obi-Wan felt Yoda's approach into the room. He looked up to see the ancient Master with Bail Organa steps behind him, both staring the same grave question toward him as they approached the dying woman and himself. The only answer Obi-Wan had for either was the helpless shake of his head. Padme reached across with her free hand, with the hand she had laid upon the brow of her firstborn son and her daughter, and pressed something into Obi-Wan's palm.

For a moment, her eyes cleared, and she knew him just in time for Yoda to stand atop a chair on the other side of her and Bail to settle himself in a solemn stance behind Obi-Wan's own seat.

"Obi-Wan…" she said suddenly, her hand gripping his with a tremble as though he were the only thing teetering her to this plane of existence, "There is… There is still good in him. I know there is… still…" she glanced around, turning her eyes through the room as though she knew not where she was, but could feel the people around her. Her eyes landed on Master Yoda, who sagged with his age as he reached forward and stroked her damp her from her forehead. She mumbled the same desperate words to him, trying hard with her last breaths of life to convince them of Anakin's redemption. Obi-Wan could only sit and watch as Master Yoda took her words in stride. The diminutive green man soothed her with his ancient whispers and bid her to rest now. Obi-Wan felt wholly surreal as he watched Yoda mollify the fresh mother into a peaceful sleep with statements Obi-Wan felt were entirely dishonest. Words that she would see her children. That she would survive her broken heart. That Anakin would one day see the error of his ways.

Words that Obi-Wan could not in all good conscious give to the girl, but words that Yoda appeared to have no trouble dishing out with his wisdom into things Obi-Wan would need another lifetime to learn.

Padme's voice faded to an empty sigh, and she sagged back against the pillow once more. Half a dozen different scanners had been buzzing moments before with conflicting alarms, but now they eased into a steady rhythm of beeps. When she appeared stable, the medical droids shooed the three men from the room. Obi-Wan stood in the hall outside, looking down at what Padme had pressed into his hand during her last conscious moments. It was a pendant of some kind, an amulet. Unfamiliar sigils were carved into some sort of organic material, strung on a loop of leather. In the Force, he could feel traces of the touch of her skin. When Yoda and Bail joined him outside the room with the hatch shutting behind them, he was still standing there, staring at it.

"She put this in my hand…" For what seemed the dozenth time this day, he found himself blinking back tears, "and I don't even know what it is."

"Precious to her, it must have been," Yoda said slowly, in the same tone he had shushed the dying woman into the gentle embrace of slumber, "Given to one of the children, perhaps it should be."

Obi-Wan looked down at the simple, child-like symbols carved into it, and felt from it in the Force soaring echoes of transcendent love. Yet, at the same time, he could also feel the bleak, black despair of unendurable heartbreak. But still, he would not argue with the ancient Master.

"Yes," he said at last, "Yes. Perhaps that would be best."

"Master Yoda," Bail broke into the conversation with a nervous air, "If you don't mind my asking… What exactly did you do back there?"

Obi-Wan looked up, and then down toward Master Yoda. He too wished to know how the hundreds year-old Jedi Master had stopped a woman who was so intent to die with a broken heart.

"Broken, she was." Yoda began with half-lidded eyes and barely parting lips, "Yet, her time, this was not. Used the Force, I did, to save her life. Her children. Need her, they will. Sense, I do, the future will need her. A coma… Yes, a coma, I placed her in. A coma, she will stay… Until she has strength. Strength enough to stand… Hmm, yes… To stand…"

So many things were said but went unsaid in Yoda's words that Obi-Wan and Bail found themselves leaning heavily onto the cold metallic walls of the corridor. Obi-Wan wanted to protest that Yoda had broken so many rules— _so many laws_ — within the Jedi Order, but he froze. Was there even still an Order to follow? Were those laws even still relevant after what had occurred on Coruscant and was still proceeding across the galaxy?

Obi-Wan's eyes glided to Yoda, whose ears were sagged and his age showing on his face. Yoda, in that moment, did not seem to think so. Yoda, as he was now, must have felt a hint of regret from breaking such a long held tradition that he had been taught and had reinforced for so long himself.

Yet, in that next moment, Yoda sighed wearily and began to amble away from the room with his gnarled gimer stick.

"Come," he spoke without slowing in his sedated pace, "Much to discuss. Little time. Come."

And the two taller men followed their elder at his order.

Around a conference table on _Tantive IV_ , Bail Organa, Obi-Wan Kenobi, and Yoda met to decide the fate of the galaxy.

"To Naboo, we shall say her body was sent…" Yoda stretched his head high, as though tasting a current in the Force, "A body, we will recover. Pregnant, it must still appear. Hidden, safe, the children must be kept. Foundation of the new Jedi Order, they will be."

"We should split them up," Obi-Wan put forward his opinion, his arms crossed as he kept in his own aching heart and emotions from bleeding onto the table, "Even if the Sith find one, the other may yet survive. I can take the boy, Master Yoda, and you take the girl. We can hide them away, keep them safe. Train them, even. Train them as Anakin should have been trained—"

"No." with that one word, the ancient Master lowered his head again, closing his eyes, resting his chin on his hands that were folded over the head of his gimer stick. Obi-Wan looked uncertain.

"But how are they to learn the self-discipline a Jedi needs? How are they to master skills of the Force?"

"Know now that Jedi training, the sole source of self-discipline it is not. When right is the time for skills to be taught, to us the Living Force will bring them. Until then, wait we will. Watch, we will. Learn, we will."

"I can…" Bail Organa stopped, flushing slightly in the presence of the two great Jedi Knights, "I'm sorry to interrupt, Masters; I know little about the Force, but I do know something of love. The Queen and myself… Well, we've always talked of adopting a child. A girl, to be exact. If you have no objection, I would like to take young Leia with me to Alderaan, and raise her… as my own daughter. As _our_ daughter. She would be loved with us." Yoda and Obi-Wan exchanged a look. Yoda tilted his head, his eyes half-lidded as he drank in the image of Bail Oragana. The Force sung happily at the man's flustered request.

"No happier fate could any child ask for. With our blessing, and that of the Force, let Leia be your child." Bail stood at Yoda's final words, a little jerkily, as though he simply could no longer keep his seat. His flush had turned from embarrassment to pure uncomplicated joy.

"Thank you, Masters. I don't know what else to say. Thank you, that's all. What of the boy?"

"Cliegg Lars still lives on Tatooine," Obi-Wan supplied this information, "And Anakin's stepbrother… Owen, that's it, and his wife, Beru, still work the moisture farm outside Mos Eisley…"

"As close to family as the boy can go," Yoda hummed approvingly, "But Tatooine, not like Alderaan it is. Deep in the Outer Rim, a wild and dangerous planet. Sure of this, you are?"

"Anakin survived it," Obi-Wan stated strongly. Perhaps a little too strongly. "Luke can survive it, too. And I can… Well, I could take him there, and watch over him. Protect him from the worst of the planet's dangers, until he can learn to protect himself."

Yoda's half-lidded eyes opened, sharping as they landed on Obi-Wan, who did not flinch away from such a cutting look as he might have in years passed. As he would have if it were even yesterday. "Like a father you wish to be, young Obi-Wan?" Yoda asked with his underlining question clear.

"More an… eccentric old uncle, I think. It is a part I can play very well. To keep watch over Anakin's son." Obi-Wan sighed as he settled back into his chair, finally allowing his face to register a suggestion of his old gentle smile. He would not be ashamed, not now when there was so little to smile about. Yoda hummed again, his sharp gaze softening as if it were a trick of light. "I can't imagine a better way to spend the rest of my life."

Yoda nodded and stamped his stick once along his hover chair, "Settled it is, then. To Tatooine, you will take him."

Bail moved toward the door as soon as a comfortable silence settled over them. "If you'll excuse me, Masters, I have to call the Queen…" but then, Bail stopped in the doorway, looking back, "Master Yoda, do you think Padme's twins will be able to defeat Palpatine?"

"Hmm… Strong, does the Force run, in the Skywalker line. Only hope, we can. Until the time is right, disappear we will. Disappear we _must_."

Bail nodded to these words, knowing that it was perhaps their only course of action. He needed to slip into the background of activity while they had to leave the scene completely. Less they all suffer death, or fates worst still.

"And I must do the same," he felt he needed to say these words even though they all knew it without the words being spoken, "metaphorically, at least. You may hear… disturbing things… about what I do in the Senate. I must appear to support the new Empire, and my comrades with me. It was… Padme's wish, and she was a shrewder political mind than I'll ever be. Please trust that what we do is only a cover for our true task. We will never betray the legacy of the Jedi. I will never surrender the real Republic to the Sith."

"Trust in this, we always will. Go now; for happy news, your Queen is waiting." Bail Organa bowed, and vanished into the corridor.

When Obi-Wan moved to follow, Yoda's gimer stick barred his way.

"A moment, Master Kenobi. In your solitude on Tatooine, training I have for you. Myself and my new Master." Obi-Wan blinked in astonishment at Yoda's words.

"Your new Master?" he felt himself ask while his mind was still wrapping around what Yoda had said.

"Yes." Yoda smiled up at him mysteriously, "And you're old one…"

"But Master Yoda," Obi-Wan let go of the thoughts of training and the memories that Yoda's last words brought to forefront in order to gain another type of insight, "while I am on Tatooine with Luke, and Senator Organa is on Alderaan raising Leia, where… where will you be, Master?"

"Master, I am no longer," and once again did Yoda's ear flop low to his head, "Failed, I have. Into exile, I must go. Far into exile, I must flee…"

Obi-Wan did not know what words to say in the face of this side of the Grandmaster. He only hung his head in the silence that once again settled over them. And then, he felt Master Yoda stand from his chair and hop off, walking nearer toward him. Yoda placed something into his lap, a small data-pad upon which a planet was displayed.

"Master Yoda, is this…?"

Yoda nodded ever slowly, "If have need of me, you ever will… Here, I can be found in my exile. Come and sit, or in distant contact you may reach me. But reach out, you will be able."

With those final words, Yoda ambled away from the unsteady Obi-Wan Kenobi. The only sound left was the gimer stick striking the ground as Yoda departed and the hatch cycling open to usher the now former Grandmaster of the millennia old Jedi Order into the first steps of his exile.

When he was alone, Obi-Wan whispered only fourteen words to himself before departing the conference room to his own exile, "May the Force be with you, Master Yoda… May the Force be with you…"


	2. The Crazy Little Green Elf

**Chapter 2: The Crazy Little Green Elf**

* * *

Harry lay flat on his back, breathing hard as though he had been running. He had awoken from a vivid dream with his hands pressed over his face. The old scar on his forehead, which was shaped like a bolt of lightning, was burning beneath his fingers as though someone had just pressed a white-hot iron to his skin.

He sat up, one hand still on his scar, the other reaching out in the darkness for his glasses, which were on the bedside table. He put them on and his bedroom came into clearer focus, lit by a faint, misty orange light that was filtering through the curtains from the street lamp outside the window.

Harry ran his fingers over the scar again. It was still painful. He turned on the lamp beside him, scrambled out of bed, crossed the room, opened his wardrobe, and peered into the mirror on the in side of the door. A skinny boy of fourteen looked back at him, his bright green eyes puzzled under his untidy black hair. He examined the lightning-bolt scar of his reflection more closely. It looked normal, but it was still stinging.

Harry tried to recall what he had been dreaming about before he had awoken. It had seemed so real. There had been two people he knew and one he didn't. He concentrated hard, frowning as he struggled to remember…

 _The dim picture of a darkened room came to him… There had been a snake on a hearth rug … a small man called Peter, nicknamed Wormtail… and a cold, high voice… the voice of Lord Voldemort_ …

Harry felt as though an ice cube had slipped down into his stomach at the very thought.

He closed his eyes tightly and tried to remember what Voldemort had looked like, but it was growing fainter and fainter with each passing moment. All Harry knew was that at the moment when Voldemort's chair had swung around, and he, Harry, had seen what was sitting in it, he had felt a spasm of horror, which had awoken him… or had that been the pain in his scar?

And who had the old man been? For there had definitely been an old man; Harry had watched him fall to the ground. It was all be coming a jumble of thoughts and random blurs as Harry put his face into his hands, blocking out his bedroom, trying to hold on to the picture of that dimly lit room, but it was like trying to keep water in his cupped hands. The details were now trickling away as fast as he tried to hold on to them.

Voldemort and Wormtail had been talking about some one they had killed, though Harry could not remember the name… and they had been plotting to kill someone else… _him_!

Harry took his face out of his hands, opened his eyes, and stared around his bedroom as searched for quill and parchment at the revelation of this discovery. Though when he jumped up from his bed, Harry expected to see something unusual there, he found that his room already possessed an extraordinary number of unusual things. At the foot of his bed there sat a large wooden trunk which was still open. The contents inside were visible in the dim orange glow of his room, revealing; a cauldron, broomstick, black robes, and an assortment of spellbooks. Rolls of parchment littered that part of his desk that was not taken up by the large, empty cage in which his snowy owl, Hedwig, usually perched. On the floor beside his bed a book lay open; Harry had been reading it before he fell asleep last night. The pictures in this book were all moving. Men in bright orange robes were zooming in and out of sight on broomsticks, throwing a red ball to one another.

Harry walked over to the book, picked it up, and watched one of the wizards score a spectacular goal by putting the ball through a fifty-foot-high hoop. Then he snapped the book shut. Even Quidditch, which in Harry's opinion was the best sport in the world, could not distract him at the moment. He placed _Flying with the Cannons_ on his bedside table, and sat down at his desk. Harry pulled a piece of parchment toward him, loaded his eagle-feather quill with ink, and began jotting down everything that was fleeing his sleep-addled mind.

 _Voldemort… Wormtail… plotting to kill someone unknown… Plotting to kill_ **ME** _! Old mansion… Killed old man… snake on hearth rug…_

Harry then paused, wondering how best to deal with this new and glaring problem, still marveling at the fact that he had the presence of mind to be so quick to jot these things down as he found himself growing duller to what they meant by the second. He scratched out a few more things to the list, but after a minute or two found that he could not at all recall anything about what he as reading from the paper. At the top of the parchment, Harry gave bold dark strokes of his quill to underline the word ' **DREAM** ' and tucked the parchment within his school robes for later.

Suddenly growing more restless by the second, Harry stood abruptly from his desk and drew back the curtains to his bedroom window in order to survey the street below.

Privet Drive looked exactly as a respectable suburban street would be expected to look in the early hours of Saturday morning. All the curtains were closed. As far as Harry could see through the darkness, there wasn't a living creature in sight, not even a cat.

And yet… and yet… Harry turned back to his desk and sat down at it, running a finger over his scar again. It wasn't the pain that bothered him; Harry was no stranger to pain and injury. He had lost all the bones from his right arm once and had them painfully regrown in a night. The same arm had been pierced by a venomous foot-long fang not long afterward. Only last year Harry had fallen fifty feet from an airborne broomstick.

Harry was used to bizarre accidents and injuries. They were unavoidable if you had a knack for attracting a lot of trouble such as he did.

No, the thing that was bothering Harry was that the last time his scar had hurt him, it had been because Voldemort had been close by.

But Voldemort couldn't be here, now … The idea of Voldemort lurking in Privet Drive was absurd, impossible…

Harry listened closely to the silence around him. He jumped slightly when, as he was he half-expecting to hear the swish of a cloak, he heard instead a sound from outside his window.

Harry leaned forward from his desk and snatched back the curtains again. There was something streaking across the skies, like a glowing golden Snitch too far for Harry to see properly. And then it was drawing closer and closer, becoming larger and larger until Harry hitched in breath when it suddenly twinkled out of existence just as it was reaching the wooded area behind the local park. Harry had known that park well, as it was only three years ago that the relentless bullying he received from his cousin Dudley had ended there.

Harry jumped again as he heard Dudley give a tremendous grunting snore from the next room, almost as if growling for Harry to stop thinking about him.

* * *

Feeling that the room was suddenly too cramped, Harry shrugged on a school cloak from the trunk at the foot of his bed and made his way out the room. He had no reason to tip-toe or sneak around inside the house when it was so late in the night. There was no one in the house with him except Uncle Vernon, Aunt Petunia, and Dudley, and they were plainly still asleep, their dreams untroubled and painless. Asleep was the way Harry liked his relatives best. It wasn't as though they were ever any help to him awake. It was also a plus that when they slept, all the Durlseys slept hard through the middle of the night, like normal people were expected to sleep. Harry had never been able to confide in them or tell them anything about his life in the wizarding world. The very idea of going to them when they awoke, and telling them about his scar hurting him, about his worries about Voldemort, about the falling object which had disappeared in a flicker, was laughable.

As he made his way down the creaking staircase, Harry never found it so easy to escape the Dursleys and the oppressive environment they promoted. And in the next moment, he was out in the dark, quiet street, clutching his cloak's hood close to his face for obscurity, and moving without a single glance backward.

Harry was several streets away before he paused to give his actions some thought. Harry shivered as he looked up and down the street. What was he going to do if he found something at the park? Would it be a wizard playing tricks, or would it be another ploy by Voldemort to lure him away from safety? Harry took out his wand, clutching it tightly within his grip. If worse came to worse, Harry could always summon the Knight Bus the way he did last year. All he needed to do was stick out his wand, and there was a street that ran along the side of the park. He thought of Ron and Hermione, and his heart sped up. Harry was sure that, trap or not, like with every year the trio spent in the halls of Hogwarts, Ron and Hermione would want to help him now. Harry smiled as he began his trek toward the park again, comforted by the thought of his two closest friends doing all they could in order to rush to his aid from abroad.

He looked down at his wand, which he was still clutching in his hand. The closer he drew to the park, the damper the air grew. It was a cool night, and a low bearing mist was beginning to settle in, reminding Harry of just how close the autumn days were and how soon he would be thankfully returning to Hogwarts with his friends.

Finally reaching the park, with the mist thickening at the edges like a foreboding whiteness, Harry stared ahead of himself with his back straight. A funny prickling on the back of his neck had made Harry feel as though he were being watched, but the street around him appeared to be deserted, and no lights shone from any of the large square houses down the way. Never the less, Harry felt his hand grip his wand tightly as he pressed forward through the mists. The hood was still up on his cloak, and Harry felt no reason to put it down. In fact, he clenched it around his face tighter than ever while entering the park.

He moved past the swing set and the jungle gym. Strode forward through the sandbox and around the monkey bars. These mundane things did not interest Harry at the moment. He gave no pause as he broken from freshly kempt green grass to the thicket of weeds that made up the edge of the woods. The people of Surrey never gave much attention to the woods that surrounded them, but Harry felt compelled to find that twinkle which vanished overhead.

Stumbling through the woods with his cloak getting caught on every outstretched branch and twig was cumbersome, but Harry knew it was not safe yet to do any form of magic when the Ministry would have him expelled if he, an underage wizard, even attempted so much as a lighting charm to guide his way.

The lights of houses was grower dimmer and dimmer the further into the forest Harry journeyed. Harry knew it could not be much longer before his vision would have to settle in with the darkness, but there was something up ahead. A small glimmer. Harry blinked once, then twice to be sure it was not a trick of mind on his part. He positioned himself so that when the lights behind him finally could no longer pierce through the thick trees and rising fog, he could simply stroll forward to that great tiny light with almost no trouble.

Harry felt his heartbeat race for a moment when the light at his back finally gave out. It was now so dark that he could scarcely see in front of him. Out in the dense wood he heard a sharp snapping noise and felt a chill run through him. Taking his wand once again from his trouser pocket, Harry prepared to defend himself from anything that leaped from the darkness to attack him. But nothing did, and he moved ahead with great caution again as he heard the noise again, but this time a little further ahead. After hearing it for the fourth or fifth time, Harry became aware of the fact that the noise was, intentionally or not, lading him toward the tiny flicker of light that was out at the other end of the forest.

He looked around nervously at the shadows in the woods. Harry felt a small fraction of fright take hold of him, combined with misery and increasing doubt about his impromptu quest. The woods was far too quiet for Harry's tastes. The only sound he could hear thus far was the noise which was now coming repeatedly from where the little light was growing larger.

Finally reaching a part of the woods where the light pierced the darkness with great ease, Harry still did not drop his hooded cloak or release his iron-grip on his wand. The light was enormous now, but it flickered every so often with the wind that rose and fell from the clearing that it was evidently present in. Harry smelt smoke and burning leaves, recognizing the beginnings of a good fire from his few years of friendship with Hagrid at Hogwarts.

And as Harry was almost relaxed by this type of memory, he felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand as he whipped around, peering into the gloom to try to find the source of watchful eyes on his back. He pointed his wand in front of him, coming face-to-face with a tiny creature standing directly in front of him along a large stone Harry had not even been aware of being there. Harry immediately stepped back in surprise. This little being seemed to have materialized out of nowhere! It stood little more than half a meter in height, fearlessly holding its ground in front of the towering youth who wielded a wand and what most told him a considerable amount of awesome magical power. Ever since he learned to conjure a Patronus last year, Harry had been feeling especially strong and warm these last few months.

The little wizened thing could have been any age with its appearance. Its face was deeply lined, but was framed with pointed elfin ears that gave it a look of eternal youth much the same as Dobby, the only House-Elf which Harry knew to date. Long wisps of white hair parted down the middle and hung down on either side of the green-skinned head. The creature was bipedal, and stood on short legs that terminated in tridactyl, almost reptilian feet. It wore rags as gray as the mists of the forest, and in such tatters that they must have approximated the creature's very age. For the moment, Harry could not decide whether to be frightened or to laugh at this homely and shabby little thing. But when he gazed into those bulbous eyes and sensed the being's kindly nature, Harry relaxed only a little. At last the creature motioned toward the wand in Harry's hand.

"Away put your weapon," the small elf said. Its voice came out as something between a grumble and a squeak, "I mean you no harm."

Harry was surprised by the unnatural urge to trust this little green man. He certainly had been more wary of Dobby before him, but Harry attributed this to the fact that Dobby had simply appeared in his bedroom while this creature had surprised him as he was already on guard. Not to mention the fact that Dobby, in the same time frame as this little old elf, had already done a fair few crazy things and would have been banging his head against the stone he stood on rather than being as calm as an approaching storm the way this little creature was at the moment.

After another moment's hesitation, Harry quietly lowered his wand, but did not put it back into his pocket. He shucked off his cloak for some added freedom of movement. He glanced quietly and suspiciously at the green elf, not entirely put at ease by the warm and inviting feelings that came from meeting eyes with him. As he did so, Harry wondered again why he felt compelled to obey this little creature.

"I am wondering," the creature spoke again, "why are you here?"

Harry shifted uncomfortably, but with another meeting of their eyes felt himself relax immensely more than before. The subtle arch of the elf's brow did not go unnoticed by Harry, and made him feel a fleeting spark of trepidation.

Never the less, Harry answered, "I saw something in the skyline. A tiny twinkle of light that disappeared over the forest." He gave the little being in front of him a piercing gaze of his own, "You wouldn't know anything about that, would you?"

"Twinkle, you say? In the sky, hmm?" the creature repeated curiously with a wide smile beginning to crease his already-lined face. "You've found it, I'd say. My fire! Heh? Yes! To keep me warm, it is! Yes!"

Harry had to force himself not to smile. The green elf was not mocking him, this Harry understood without knowing how. It was more as if the two shared some long history and this was no more than an inside joke between them.

"Yeah…"

"Help you, I can!" the creature began excitedly, its eyes glimmering much like the twinkle which led Harry here. But, as far as Harry knew, elves could pop in and out without a moment's hesitation. They didn't travel by blinking light, did they?

"Yes… Yes… Help you, I can!" the green elf went on, and Harry inexplicably found himself endeared to the odd creature, but wasn't at all sure that such a tiny elf could be of help to him on his quest for the mysterious light.

"The light appeared and disappeared right above this forest," Harry started gently, "Did you see or hear anything land around here. Maybe a human like myself, or another person like yourself." He could not be certain this creature before him was a house-elf, and did not want to make that assumption. It could be just as bad as calling an Irishman anything like a Scotsman, or the reserve. Harry shuddered as his Uncle Vernon had once made that terrible mistake.

The creature shook his head, the whitish hair flopping about his pointed ears.

"Searching for light, you say. But inside you, it already is. Heh, heh."

A strange phrase, Harry thought with his eyes blinking twice at the green man. It sounded almost like something he would hear from Dumbledore if he had come to the wizened wizard with the same quest. The comparison in his mind made Harry relax a little more naturally, his shoulders losing some of their hard fought tension. The green elf lost its furrowed brow in the same motion, and Harry was sure that constituted evidence that it had been trying to make him at ease in some way, shape or form. Whether or not it was imploring magical means or not needed to be seen. If Harry received an owl from the Ministry in the forest, he would be dragging the little green elfman onto the Knight Bus with him and giving Stan the order to take him directly to the Ministry, wherever that was in London.

But before Harry could say anything, he saw the tiny elf hobble off over the stone he was standing on, and with shockingly surprising ease, it was fast enough to pluck the wand from Harry's lowered hand.

"Hey, give that back!" Harry felt as if he were eleven years-old again, screeching for Dudley and his Uncle Vernon to give him back his Hogwarts acceptance letter. But this was different. He still had that letter and many others in the floorboard underneath the cupboard. His wand, however, was irreplaceable in Harry's eyes. Not just as a focal for his magical powers and prowess, but as a memento to his first glimpse into the other half of his life, the magical half of his existence. In the first fleeting looks he was awarded into the world his parents had known and he was now a part of like they had been.

Harry was surprised at this sudden strange behavior, and tried to catch the little green bugger. But it moved easily out of his arm's length and ambled over to where the fire was burning dimly in the clearing for not having any more firewood thrown on. Harry felt horror clench his stomach as he charged after the surprisingly fast creature of old age.

When Harry was fully within the clearing, he saw a hut of some sort at the far end and several other things that would have been noteworthy if he was not snatching his wand back from the little green man. The creature tutted softly as it managed to once again stay safe from Harry's rising irritation, its bulging great eyes inspecting the wand with critical glee. The strange being held the wand up to the fire for better light, then bite it, much to Harry's immense horror. But no sooner had the creature clenched its teeth onto the wand did he spit it away from the taste, his deeply lined face wrinkling like a prune.

"Peewh!" he said, spitting, "Thank you, no. How get you so big eating food of this kind?"

"That's not food!" Harry felt that he should have been explosive with anger at this point, but he could not help himself. Seeing the green elf try to eat his wand rather than chuck it onto the fire was a hilarious twist he had not been prepared to see. This time the creature did not have the presence of mind to evade Harry as he snatched back his wand with nimbly fingers. The green being looked Harry up and down, and before the astounded youth could berate him for trying to devour his prized possession, the creature flicked its gaze to Harry's cloak and snatched that away from Harry with small and delicate hands. Harry was quickly growing both amused and frustrated with the bizarre little scavenger, watching him as he tried on the cloak only to realize that the cloak was much too long for its size. Nearly four of the green elf standing atop each other could equal Harry in height, and so the cloak was more like a shroud and train. A black wedding dress for a little green man.

"Listen, I just came out here because I saw something unusual," Harry said with his lips thinning. Whether this was to keep from scowling or laughing, Harry couldn't tell anymore.

"Have you tried looking more closely? Have you tried? Have you tried, hmm?" the creature goaded.

Harry was again denied a reply as he stopped to consider the elf's words. He had to admit to himself that he had not, but then the whole idea was patently ludicrous. The light had not been in Harry's neighborhood when it disappeared, and when he was walking the streets all he saw were streetlamps.

Harry's wand had once again attracted the creature's interest. He was finally reaching the end of his patience when he saw the crazy little being snatch his wand again, waving and swishing it around like a sword to be brandished. Knowing that his survival for the night and however much longer he dwelled in the forest could very well depend on his wand, Harry grabbed for it. This time he was no longer playing games with the creature, especially not so close to the fire as they were.

But the creature held on to his prize. He gripped the wand tightly in his wrinkled green-skinned hand. The nearby fire threw its radiance up into the green elf's delighted face, and he immediately began to re-examine his treasure anew.

"Let go! That's mine!" Harry cried. The creature struggled with him like a petulant child.

"No, mine! Mine! Or I'll help you not." still clutching the wand with surprising strength, the creature stepped backward and pulled Harry along with him.

"I don't want your help," Harry said indignantly, "I just wanted something to take my mind off—" Harry stopped himself and shook his head free of what he was about to utter, "I just want my wand back, you little green bugger. Then I'm going back home, and getting out of this overgrow."

Harry instantly realized he had issued an insult, one the creature must have also recognized as it glared in annoyance at him.

"Overgrow, say you? Green bug, am I? Beautiful is me, and my home this is!" the green man shot back.

The two were engaged in a tug-of-war over the stolen prize. As they spun about in battle, Harry growled with effort as he tried hard to both win out over the elf and not accidentally snap his wand in the process.

"Give to me! Mine, mine! Give it back!" the creature cried. Abruptly, though, he seemed to give up the bizarre struggle and lightly beating at Harry's thigh with a small gnarled walking stick that seemed just its size. Harry was about fed up with these antics and simply released his hold on the wand. The battle was over, and the victor grinned at the holly wood that glowed by fire light in his tiny hands, gleefully repeating, "Mine, mine."

Harry reasoned that it would probably try to taste the wand again, but if it made even a gesture that it would throw the object into the fire, Harry's Seeker reflexes would be put to the test. He would have his wand back, by any means necessary despite his not wanting to hurt the crazed little green elf.

"Okay, I let you have it." Harry said with a sigh, running his hand through his disheveled raven hair, "Now what are you going to do with it? It tastes horrid, remember."

"Keep it, I shall." The creature turned a suspicious eye to Harry, as if he expected him to continue grabbing for it. Harry would first let him lower his guard, then swipe back his wand if the need arose.

"Stay and help you find your friend, I will." He continued excitedly, but Harry shook his head. This little elf was so bloody confusing and weird. It was really working his patience in ways neither the Durlseys nor Malfoy ever could.

"I already told you, I'm not looking for a friend. I was searching for a light that might have landed here." Harry explained through barely parting lips.

"Oh," the creature's eyes widened as he spoke, "but revealed and know your quest, I do. Not so different are they. Your light and what you should seek of it. The one known as Yoda, you seek. Hmm, yes. Yoda, you seek, Yoda."

Mention of a name to the light surprised Harry and made him feel skeptical. How could an elf like this know anything about the two? But Harry froze at those thoughts. That was his frustrated mind trying to write the little elf off as crazy and unimportant. Harry closed his eyes and centered his breathing. Anger clouded his judgment much the way it had when he had first heard Fudge and the others talking about how Sirius had betrayed his parents and then again when he actually found Sirius. No, it was no longer smart for him to think in anger. Anger led to far too many stupid decisions hastily made.

The little green elf could have been living in the woods for a thousand years as far as Harry might have known. It could have seen that light twinkle in and out of existence hundreds of times. The light could have appeared to the elf. The elf could have named the light, or the light could have revealed its name to the elf. The light could just be another wizard, or an elf not unlike Dobby and this one. So many possibilities and mysteries. So many questions that needed answers, and yet when answers were found, even more questions arose.

"That light that appeared over the urban… You've seen it before." This was not a question, as Harry looked down at the little man.

"Of course, yes," the creature said proudly, nodding his head.

"And it has a name?" this time it was a question, to which the elf gave an affirmative nod.

"Yes, Yoda is who you seek. Take you to him, I shall." The creature turned, then paused before addressing Harry again, "But first we must eat. Good food. Come, come."

With that, the creature scurried away from the fire and toward his little hut.

* * *

" _I must really be going nutters_ ", Harry thought, " _following this weird being into that little thing to eat who-knows-what_." But the creature had mentioned a name and knowing whatever that strange light had been. Yoda, the elf had said. He stumbled over a particularly thick weed of twisting roots as he pursued the creature into his camp. The elfman was chattering gaily as he disappeared into his hut.

"Heh… safe… heh… quite safe… yes, of course!" then, in his odd little way, this mysterious being started to laugh.

The hut was a strange little mud house on the edge of the clearing. It was not tall, but held a certain rigid stature that Harry could note in its design, almost as if were built from unique framework rather than simply sculpted by the green hermit elf. Somehow Harry managed to squeeze inside the miniature house after the elf, where everything within was perfectly scaled to its tiny resident. He sat cross-legged on the dried mud floor in the living room, careful not to bang his head against the low ceiling. There was a table in front of him and he could see a few containers holding what appeared to be hand-written scrolls of parchment.

The wrinkle-faced creature was in his kitchen, next to the living room, busily concocting an incredible meal. From where Harry sat he could see the little cook stirring steaming pots, chopping this, shredding that, scattering herbs over all, and scurrying back and forth to put platters on the table in front of the youth. Fascinated as he was by this bustling activity, Harry was also glancing around for his wand. After a minute's search with his eyes flickering around the house and at the back of the creature, he saw it sitting on a mud mantle, innocently resting there for his taking.

But Harry did not move to grab it. It was just a relief for him to know that the old elf was not using it to stir whatever he was cooking.

As the creature made one of his frantic runs into the living room area, Harry wanted to remind his host about what he had come into the forest for. Not a meal, but to discover that mysterious source of light.

"Patience," the creature said, as he scuttled back into the steamy kitchen before Harry could get out a single word. He supposed his expression of impatience said all that needed to be said, "It's time to eat."

Harry was trying as hard as any British gentleman would to be polite to the homely creature of fantasy. That was, if any random British muggle knew that such beings like elves and centaurs existed.

"It smells good," Harry started, "and I'm sure it's delicious, but I don't know why we can't see this Yoda person now."

"It's the Jedi's time to eat, too," the creature answered, but that only confused Harry more. He wasn't sure what this Jedi was, or if it was simply the last name of this Yoda bloke.

"Will it take long to get to the person? How far is Yoda Jedi?" Harry asked eagerly, feeling that hours had passed. By his approximation, it had been almost two full hours since he had awakened and left Number Four. That meant there was another five before sunrise.

"Not far, not far. Closer than you think. Be patient. Soon you will see him. Why seek him out, do you?" and the creature's eyes were as piercing as Dumbledore's twinkling electric blue eyes could ever be. This tiny elf, with old age, had bulging dark eyes that glimmered like stars to the backdrop of space.

"Well, it was strange to see." Harry answered, rubbing at his face anxiously, "I've lived my entire life on Privet Drive, and it's only been in the recent few years that I've noticed any of the really odd stuff that happens around me. Well," Harry shook his head again, "no that's not quite right, is it? I've always seen the strange happens, but it's only recently that I've been able to see it for what it really is. See it for the magic that it is."

"Hmm, yes," the creature had briefly shut its eyes and was listening intently to Harry's ramblings, "Continue, you may."

"Yeah," Harry went on, "so when I woke up and saw that light, I knew it had to be something abnormal. I thought it might be a wizard or something being a bit sloppy with their concealment. Or maybe a creature that only wizards could see. I was thinking that it might be a bit of a larp to make a mystery out of it. See what it was. If it was a wizard, I thought… I thought I might have someone who could relate to me. And if it was a creature—"

"You would seek it out as a companion…" Harry noticed that the little elf held a curious look in its eyes, the brow wrinkling its face even more as it creased and furrowed, "Hmm, betray you, your thoughts do. Speak of the trouble that awoke you, you must."

Harry had thought he glossed over that well enough, but apparently not so for this elf.

"Speak, speak!" the green man chanted as he sat down to begin his vast meal.

"It's nothing really," Harry tried hard to keep from recalling the list he had penned out at his desk back at Number Four, "I have nightmares all the time."

"Powerful, you must be if dreams bother you not." Harry wondered if the creature were mocking him, "But again your thoughts betray you. For, if not bothered you, they had, then why are you here instead of asleep as your kind do at this time?"

Harry glanced around at the bizarre room. His eyes landed on his wand, and he shook his head.

"You're right, I don't know why I'm here. I don't know what I'm doing here…"

At this small confession, Harry looked up and noticed that the tiny creature had turned away from him and was in hushed conversation to a corner of the room. Okay, now Harry knew this was the final straw, because now this impossibly crazy little green elf was talking to thin air!

Just as Harry was about to call it a day, take up his wand, and head back to bed, he heard something. From the empty corner of the room, Harry heard a gentle and wise voice responding to creature.

"Is someone else here?" Harry asked, inching slowly toward where his wand rested. He looked about the room in the hope of finding someone, or at least the telltale signs of someone under invisibly cloak, but all he saw was Yoda sitting across from him at the table.

Just as Harry was about to take his wand and bolt, the green elf turned sharply to him.

"Rude, it is," he spat just as sharply as his gaze was on Harry now, "to run when talking with guests at second dinner! Very rude!"

The little green elf raised his hand, and the wand flew into his open palm like a fish hooked on a line. Harry was not at all surprised by the display of magic, but the way his stomach wobbled with it made him feel queasy.

"Hmph, ready are you to find your light? Ready are you to meet Yoda?" the skeptical tone was very cutting and Harry felt as if he were now talking to a miniaturized version of Professor McGonagall at the moment, "What know you of mystery? What know you of ready? Ready are you to meet Yoda, hmm? Well," the elf stood with great pride and Harry was briefly stunned by the contrast this stance held against the hunched and homely way the creature had carried itself mere seconds ago, "here I am. Yoda, am I. Ready, are you still?"

"So wait," Harry tried to stand, but knocked the back of his head against the low ceiling, "You're Yoda Jedi?"

"Yoda, I am. Jedi, I was." Yoda said mysterious, then shook his head, "Jedi is no name! It is a great and honorable title! Trained knights of the Jedi Order have I, for eight hundred years!"

"Oh, sorry," was all Harry could muster as he soothed his aching head by rubbing circles on the agitated spot.

He could feel the importance in Yoda's voice, but Harry could not grasp the true importance behind his words as much as he tried.

Jedi? Order? Knights? Trained for eight hundred years?

While these things seemed impressive, and probably were, Harry simply could not help but feel it was all a little too foreign for him to appreciate. It was like seeing a picture of Big Ben instead of standing under the shadow of the real thing. Like hearing someone brag about the pasta in Italy before tasting it yourself. They were impressive, but far removed from Harry's own sphere of appreciation until he could interact with them himself.

Now if Yoda had said he taught wizards at Hogwarts for eight hundred years or something, Harry would have stared at him with respect and deference for the accomplishment. And perhaps these Jedi, as Yoda called them, was just another school of wizard Harry had yet to encounter. It was a little silly to think that Hogwarts could be the only magical school in the whole world, after all.

"To become a Jedi," Yoda started gravely, "takes the deepest commitment, the most serious mind."

Harry once again heard a gentle wise voice, but could not discern its words.

Yoda pointed at Harry. "This one I have watched a long while now. A Jedi craves not adventure. He is too reckless!"

Again the voice came, but Harry, concentrating on it, heard, " _He will learn_ … _He is learning, even now_ …" in a soothing tone.

"What is going on here?" Harry asked, whirling around for answers. Yoda's face, which had been cheerful before was now like carved stone as his wrinkles seemed immovable and his eyes lost their glimmer.

"If teach you what I know," Yoda began, a softening to his tone and face, "finish what you learn, will you?"

"You want to teach me?" Harry was not stupid enough to look such a gifted horse in the mouth. He was taught by Hagrid, who was half-giant, and then Remus Lupin, who last year had been a professor at Hogwarts as well as a werewolf. Learning from people different than the average wizard was no issue for Harry.

And perhaps in Yoda, he had found the companion he had come searching for…

"Hmm, much to learn there is. From all that surrounds you." Yoda turned slowly to face Harry as a strange little smile appeared on his weathered green face, "From the trees and rock. To the night sky and stars above. Heh, heh. Yes, much to learn have you."

And Harry could not help but stare at this crazy little green elf, feeling a spark of fear and trepidation grip him once more when Yoda offered him back his wand.

Just what was it that he had gotten himself into this time?


	3. Not So Far Away

**Chapter 3: Not So Far Away**

* * *

Only one being in the entire universe could instill fear in the dark spirit of Darth Vader. As he stood, silent and alone in his dim chamber, the Dark Lord of the Sith waited for a visit from his own dreaded master.

As he waited, his Imperial Star Destroyer floated through a vast ocean of stars. No one on his ship would have dared disturb Darth Vader in his private cubicle.

But if they had, they might have detected a slight trembling in that black-cloaked frame. And there might even have been a hint of terror to be seen upon his visage, had anyone been able to see through his concealing black breath mask. But no one approached, and Vader remained motionless as he kept his lonely, patient vigil.

Soon a strange electronic whine broke the dead silence of the room and a flickering light began to glimmer on the Dark Lord's cloak. Vader immediately bowed deeply in homage to his royal master. The visitor arrived in the form of a hologram that materialized before Vader and towered above him. The three-dimensional figure was clad in simple robes and its face was concealed behind, an enormous hood.

When the hologram of the Galactic Emperor finally spoke, it did so with a voice even deeper than Vader's own mechanized baritone. The Emperor's presence was awesome enough, but the sound of his voice sent a thrill of terror coursing through even Vader's powerful frame.

" _You may rise, my apprentice_ ," the Emperor commanded.

Immediately Vader straightened up. But he did not dare gaze into his master's face, and instead cast his eyes down at his own black boots.

"What is thy bidding, my master?" Vader asked with all the solemnity of a priest attending his god.

" _There is a grave disturbance in the Force_ ," the Emperor said with a soft snarl.

"I have felt it," the Dark Lord replied solemnly.

The Emperor emphasized the danger as he continued. " _Our situation is most precarious. We have a new enemy who could bring about our destruction_."

"Our destruction? Who would dare?"

This time, the Emperor did give pause for a moment, " _The Force has yet to reveal this to me. Nevertheless, we must seek out this disturbance and you must destroy it. Either that, or it shall be the undoing of what has so shortly become our Empire_."

A threat that the Emperor could not perceive, even through the Force? The thought was impossible. How could the Emperor be concerned with a tremor that Vader had felt as well, but not know of its origin? This, to Vader, was a weakness his better rarely ever showed. One that Vader could capitalize on in the future to come. Already the Force was awarding him many possibilities to this end.

"If they are Jedi," Vader reasoned, "I will wipe them out from their hiding. If they are rebel," he clenched a mechanized hand, "I will choke the life from their feeble body."

" _And if they are_ Skywalker?" the Emperor broke in like a deadly silk panther.

"I will crush them with the Force as my tool." Vader spat without a second's hesitation.

Silently the Emperor considered his pawn for a moment, and after it had passed, he spoke again. " _Good… good_ ," he said thoughtfully, and Vader wondered if this meeting was all but a test concocted by the black robed monster.

"If it is Jedi, rebel, ally, or Skywalker," Darth Vader answered firmly, "they will die or become pawns to our schemes, my master."

With that, the encounter had come to an end. Vader knelt before the Galactic Emperor, who passed his hand over his obedient servant. In the next moment, the holographic image had completely disappeared, leaving Darth Vader alone to formulate what would be, perhaps, his most subtle plan of attack. Whether this attack was against the as yet known threat or a strike to the Emperor himself, Vader purposely did not allow to cross his mind in the slightest.

* * *

Harry was left panting, nearly out of breath in this, the latest of his endurance tests. His Jedi taskmaster, Yoda, had ordered him out on a marathon run through the dense growth of woods this night.

It had been a few weeks since Yoda had practically forced Harry to learn from him. While Harry thought he would be learning spells and counter-curses, Yoda had laughed at him and commissioned Harry into not only exhausting runs, but after the first week, Yoda had invited himself along for the ride. As the Jedi-in-training puffed and sweated his way on his rugged race, the little Jedi Master observed his progress from a woven pouch strapped to Harry's back.

Yoda shook his head and muttered to himself disparagingly about the youth's lack of endurance. By the time they returned to the clearing where Yoda's hut lay, Harry's exhaustion had nearly overcome him. As he stumbled into the clearing, Yoda had yet another test planned for him. Before Harry had caught his breath, the little Jedi on his back tossed a metal bar in front of Harry's eyes. In an instant Harry ignited his borrowed laser sword and swung frantically at the bar. But he was not fast enough, and the bar fell, untouched, onto the ground with a thud. Harry collapsed on the wet earth in complete exhaustion.

"I can't," he moaned, "too tired."

Yoda, who showed no sign of sympathy, retorted, "In seven pieces, the bar would be, were you Jedi."

But Harry knew that he was not a Jedi. He still barely even knew what a Jedi really was.

So no, he was no Jedi. Not yet, anyway. And the rigorous training program devised by Yoda had left him nearly out of breath.

Yoda, after the first night, had tried explaining to Harry what a Jedi was. In his funny little backward talk, Yoda lavished Harry with a long-winded explanation of how the Jedi were an ancient order of monks who built their entire existence around the study of a mystical energy known to them as the Force, something which Harry had even less knowledge about at the moment. However, Harry was able to avoid Yoda's disapproval in his lack of knowledge by playing things by ear and drawing upon comparisons of how Jedi were to wizards as the Force was to magic. It was all pretty universal in Harry's opinion, but Yoda made it plain that he would keep his own opinion on the matter and that Harry should start seeing things his way.

Every night, having lost count by now, Harry had returned to check up on the diminutive green elven Jedi. Yoda would give him a lecture about the Jedi, how they were of such great importance to the galaxy, and then on how the Force was all around them. The rest of the time would be devoted to Harry's conditioning and then resting for the last few hours before sunrise. The conditioning was both physical and mental as Yoda coaxed Harry's introduction to the Force by basically badgering him with its presence weighing heavily on his mind for an hour or two as he ran the woods with the little elf-man sitting at camp. Tonight had been different, as Yoda had come with Harry, and managed to give the young wizard and soon-to-be Jedi a migraine with the Force being pushed into his brain like one of Hagrid's rock cakes.

Nothing was wrong with the Force, this Harry learned. He was actually starting to see what Yoda meant by how it surrounded them and penetrated them. After some time with Yoda flinging the unseen energy his way mentally, Harry was starting to feel the current of power for himself. It really did surround him, like standing in the middle of a gentle stream that gave way to a lake or something larger. And the Force flowed right through him, as though he were a sponge that temporarily soaked it into his brain for a split moment before releasing it back into the steady flow around him just as quickly.

It was a lot like magic, and yet so very different at the same time. Both were unseen powers that coursed through Harry, but while the Force was a gentle stream, magic was a chaotic rapid of white-water crashing against rocks. The two energies were everywhere, and yet never at odds with one another as they seemed to have an understanding of being the same in different places with different feelings to them. Harry was sure he would never be able to pick out where magic began and the Force ended from one another.

Thinking about it all gave him another headache, and so Harry sucked in a great gulp of air and then released it as he got up and doubled over with his hands on his knees, "I thought I was in pretty good shape," he gasped.

To this, Yoda nodded, but pinned Harry with a look he was quickly growing used to seeing. It was a look that said with little praise came great criticism, "Yes, but by what standards, you should ask." the little instructor quipped.

If Harry was honest, he would have immediately said by wizard standards. The wizards hardly ever went for physical hardiness. Even Hagrid was rather portly, and he was both a half-giant and the Groundskeeper of Hogwarts. Sure, most of the wizards Harry knew personally weren't in very bad shape, but he'd never seen any of them run for half as long or hard as Harry just did tonight. So it was a pretty safe bet that after all this training was done, Harry would be the pride of Hogwarts with a stunning physique to boast about.

"Forget your old measures. Unlearn, unlearn!" Harry bowed his head at Yoda's words, again calling to mind the phrase of little praise and great criticism. He truly felt ready to unlearn all his old ways and free himself to learn all this Jedi Master had to teach. It was rigorous training, but as the nights passed and he opened himself more to Yoda's strange ways, Harry felt better than he had in a very long time.

Indeed, even Yoda could see that after only a few weeks of training, Harry's strength and abilities were already begin to increase rapidly. And even the skeptical little master began to see hope in Harry.

But it was not easy.

* * *

Yoda gestured over to the fire where the two sat, staring at one another. He spent long hours lecturing his new student about the ways of the Jedi. As they sat under the starry night sky by the fire and near Yoda's little house, the green Jedi could see in Harry's eyes how the boy listened more intently to all of his tales and lessons than he had the night before. And as Harry listened, Yoda chewed on his Gimer Stick.

And then came more physical tests, unlike the last two weeks where Harry could then rest for his hard work. No, Yoda saw it now. He needed to continue to push the boy's limitations. Yes, tests were needed. Tests of all kinds.

In particular, Harry was working hard to perfect his leap. Once he felt the boy was ready, Yoda sat himself on a log next to a wide pond deep within the forest. Harry stood at the other end of the pond, looking highly apprehensive. Yoda sent the dark-haired lad a look, which wiped that anxiety clean from the boy's face before he backed away from the pond several paces. Then, Harry ran, coming toward the water at a dead-run. As the young wizard approached the shore, he made a running leap toward Yoda, rising high above the water as he hurtled himself through the air. He landed just barely on the edge of the bank, but this time had the presence of mind not to trip backward so Yoda would be forced to catch him with the Force before he hit the water. He skipped forward in an awkward dance of fervent movement, but even with the impressive jumping ability under his belt, when Harry looked Yoda's way, he saw that the little green elf-man had his lips thinned and turned downward in disappointment. His gnarled green hand was outstretched, but was lowering at an ancient pace. Finally, Yoda's face softened to something less than stone and he nodded only once to show the barest margin of approval.

But Harry was not about to give up on achieving more than marginal satisfaction. He was determined to become the Jedi which Yoda wanted him to be. And, no matter how foolish he might feel in the attempt, would pass every test Yoda set for him. It was like becoming the Seeker for the Gryffindor Quidditch team all over again, the rush of excitement and trepidation that all his effort would win out to a feeling of great enjoyment.

So Harry didn't complain when Yoda snapped at him a moment later to come over and stand on his head. A bit awkwardly at first, Harry inverted his body and, after a few wobbly moments, was standing firmly on his hands. It seemed he had been in this position for hours, but it was far less difficult than it would have been before his training. He was beginning to notice how everything that had been previously so impossible for him was slowly coming into the realm of simply giving it his best effort before judging it to be impossible. His concentration had improved so much that he was able to maintain a perfect balance. Even with Yoda perched on the soles of his feet!

But that was only part of the test, he was starting to understand.

Yoda signaled him to the next step in testing by tapping on his leg with his Gimer Stick. Slowly, carefully, and with full concentration, Harry raised one hand off the ground. His body wavered slightly with the weight shift, but Harry kept his balance and his breathing evenly. He closed his eyes for maximum concentration, focusing all that he was on the feel of the Force caressing his intimate thoughts. He started to lift a small rock in front of him as he wrapped that unseen energy around it like he would have done with magic. Yet, the Force was a touch easier to guide— _never control_ — than magic was. You could never bend the Force to your will like with magic, because the Force had ways of snapping back at you like a wet towel. So Harry guided and funneled the Force to what he wanted it to do for him. And the more he grew to bond with the unseen Force, the steadier his actions with it became over the last few weeks.

Yoda watched as Harry did things with the Force that took fully-trained Jedi students years to master. However, Yoda was also fully aware that Harry had been mastering another invisible energy for the past few years that was none too different from the Force. Harry called it "magic". Yoda called it "the chaotic side of the Force". A face of the universal energy that liked to be wielded by whim and took amusement in helping diverting attention away from the actual higher purposes the Force bestowed onto its sentient handlers.

Magic was but the plaything of children too young and foolish to see the Force as a trained Force-wielder saw its splendor. It was something like giving a training saber to a Youngling while the Jedi Master took the real lightsaber on a mission. Both the same, but the latter far more attuned and deadly; something only to be wielded in the hands of the trained professional.

"Now is the time," Yoda breathed calmly into the flow of the Force that Harry channeled around them like a whirl of breezes, "Lift it, you must. Lift it tonight, _you will_."

"Yoda," Harry breathed just as calmly, but the skeptical hesitance was still there. Yoda's little wrinkled face puckered with a furious scowl. Harry peeked open an eye as he felt Yoda's mood change more than anything.

"So sure are you?" Yoda scolded, "Always with you, it can't be done. Hear you nothing that I say! Tried have you?"

"No different." Harry closed his eyes again, remembering the feeling of how things were growing easier for him with each passing night. He repeated the words Yoda had repeated to him as though they had known one another for centuries, "The differences are in my mind. Throw them out… Unlearn… unlearn…"

Harry now fully trusted the little Yoda's opinion on what could and couldn't be done through the powers of the mysterious Force. If Yoda said this could be done, then he would have it done. The only thing stopping him was if he tried to succeed, or only tried to setup himself up to fail. Using the Force took a steady hand, like taming a pet. Hedwig had been very feisty at first, but when Harry showed he would not back down, she had melted into him like sweet butter.

And all the Force took was a healthy dose of steadfast bravery. Something Harry had been told many times over he had in spades. He glanced an eye toward Yoda's little home.

Tonight, it would be lifted.

Harry readied himself for maximum concentration, and Yoda watched with an impassive gaze as the boy centered himself within the Force. He did not appear as the glass to which the Force filled, but like a director moving the Force into channels it could flow to his better liking. And like water in a stream, the Force never stopped flowing, but adjusted its path to the new direction as well as the old. The rocks around them did not lower an inch, even as the small mud hut rose from its place. Yoda could almost place himself in the boy's position, envisioning the contours, the shape, and the feel of his hut's weight. How he concentrated on the movement it would make as it rose from the grassy clearing.

"Yes, yes," Yoda had only seen such talent in the most dedicated of Jedi Learners, but with Harry's prior training, he could easily be placed with them and even with the best of Jedi Padawans at this point, "Size has no meaning," Yoda insisted through lecture. "It matters not. Look at me. Judge me by my size, do you?"

Beneath him, Harry chuckled and lost some of his concentration. The hut that was rising lowered some and so did the rocks. Yoda belted him with his Gimer stick, and so Harry drew his attention back to the task at hand.

"And well you should not," the Jedi Master advised with a small scowl before his face softened into a light smile, "For my ally is the Force. And a powerful ally it is. Life creates it and makes it grow. Its energy surrounds us. Binds us! Luminous beings we are, not this crude matter," here he pinched Harry's ankle, causing the boy to jump a little, but this time he did not lower his focus on the huts and rocks. Yoda made a grand sweeping gesture to indicate the vastness of the universe about him. Harry felt this far more than he saw with his eyes closed shut.

"Feel it you must. Feel the flow. Feel the Force around you. Here," Yoda said as he pointed, "between you and me and the trees and these rocks."

"Everything?" Harry asked in a strained tone as his body was beginning to give out on him. The Force was all well and fine, but his arm strength and endurance was only so much at the moment.

"Yes, and _everywhere_ ," Yoda continued mysteriously, ignoring Harry's waning fortitude for the moment, "waiting to be felt and used. Yes, even between this land and my home!" Then Yoda jumped off of Harry and onto the closest stone. He hopped between them all equally, ensuring they stayed afloat even with his added weight. Sweat was pooling off Harry's forehead and wetting his matted hair into a fine mess. Even while strained to keep himself up, Harry adjusted the hardness of his Force power to whatever rock Yoda would hop onto next. In his mind's eye, he could practically see the little green bugger moving before he actually leapt to the next stone.

When Yoda finally made it to the grass, Harry knew he had enough. He gasped once and crumbled to the ground in a heap. The rocks fell away like lead into a pond, and Yoda's hut would have followed too if not for tiny Yoda, standing atop a tree root pedestal, effortlessly keeping the hut aloft with his hand. Harry opened his eyes to see with his bespectacled gaze what he could through his naked mind's eye. And when he finally did look, Harry saw something metallic and silver under the hut before Yoda's home was gently lowered back into its grounded state.

"What the…?" Harry mumbled, "What was that?"

It was a sight that Harry could scarcely believe. Had he really just seen what he thought he did?

"Better you are from learning to be in tune with the Force." Yoda reasoned as he glanced at Harry while setting down his hut easily, "The Force now flowing through you well enough. Higher you jump. Faster you think, react and recover. Opened yourself to the Force you have. But only the first step this is. Long is the path to Jedi Knight. But on your steps, stumble you have not."

Yoda could see that the youth was deeply feeling the exhaustion from his arduous training, although he had only been at it a short time. Harry was now knowing the Force as intimately as the Force had known him all his life. Yoda's goading words made him spring to his feet, but still he bowed with hands on his knees from exhaustion.

"That thing…" Harry rasped through harsh breathing, "Your hut… What was that?"

"Hmm," Yoda hummed with heavily lidded eyes, "One day soon you will know. When you are at peace… calm and passive. When Jedi Knight, you are. Clear your mind of questions. Quiet now be. At peace now be…" Yoda's voice trailed off, but his words had a hypnotic effect on Harry, who stopped protesting and began to feel peaceful, his body and mind relaxing.

"Yes…" Yoda murmured while Harry began to feel his fatigue leave him, "Calm… Passive…" Harry sat down in the clearing, knowing what part of his training was next. He heard Yoda's soothing voice as it entered the receptive darkness of his mind. He willed himself to travel along with the little green master's words to wherever they might lead.

" _Let yourself go_ … _Further_ … _Yes, even further_ …" When Yoda perceived that Harry was as relaxed as the young student could be at this stage, he made the tiniest of gestures. As he did, two rocks sailed above his head as smoothly as birds in flight. With another gesture he had his lightsaber within Harry's reach, and the student took it from him with a hand wave summoning it to his open palm.

Then, like a strike of lightning, the two stones shot toward Harry like hummingbirds and more were soon to follow. In that instant, Harry's eyes did not open nor did his body shift as he ignited the loaned laser sword. He moved his arm out in front of him and lashed out. It was like he could see the rocks before they were even within reach, like two glowing paths that converged on him where the stones would come in contact. He moved the saber in front of the paths, slicing the stones into two pieces each.

Then came even more.

For a small moment, Harry did not have to move an inch, but this was obviously not Yoda's intention for this part of the training session. He shot forth a rock that would force Harry up, and indeed the young wizard leapt to his feet with the rock sailing harmlessly between his legs while he continued to defend against the others aimed at him. When Yoda felt that Harry was accomplished at stone, he moved onto other materials. He threw tree branches and clumps of moss. At one point he sent forth an onslaught of hard-packed mud balls. However, each time Harry would stay steadfast, using his pure concentration to deflect the natural materials. He fearlessly faced the attacks, moving within his space with an extreme degree of grace he would have never had without his current training.

The ex-Grandmaster watched stoically as Harry unconsciously went through the motions of the third form, Soresu, or less commonly known as "The Resillence Form" and "The Way of the Mynock". Harry seldom wanted to leap, meeting all the targets with orbits of the lightsaber's blade, but when the student did jump, as Yoda made him jump now to meet the stones and branches head-on, his leaps were higher than any he had achieved before. The young dark-haired wizard wasted not a single motion as he concentrated only on every obstacle as it sped his way.

He was weathering the storm with steadfast determination, but he was not yet a Jedi.

As suddenly as the heavy onslaught had begun, Yoda dismissed it and it was over. Grinning proudly, Harry looked toward Yoda.

"Much progress do you make, young one," the Jedi Master confirmed, allowing himself a small smile of his own. This made emerald-eyed trainee beam all the brighter.

"Hmm, yes… Stronger do you grow." Yoda continued, "But with this strength, temper your pride, you must. Less fall blind to the Dark side, you will." Harry's grin began to melt away at the mention of a dark side. He made to ask about it, but the little instructor would speak no further. His ears flopped low to his head, and he turned away from his latest apprentice.

Harry watched as Yoda hobbled away into his hut, moving as though a dark cloud from the past hung low over his every move. Harry stood in the clearing feeling slightly off-balanced by their parting tonight. Yoda would usually dispense a bit more wisdom at this point, or try to explain to Harry more about the Order in which he once led. But this new somber mood was an awkward situation Harry did not know how to handle.

He stood in the clearing for a minute or two more, watching as Yoda snuffed out the fires around his hut with the Force and then the lights inside doing the same. This was a more obvious signal that their time tonight was finished, so Harry shut off the lightsaber and left it in front of Yoda's hut as he always did before turning on heel and leaving.

Yoda watched Harry go through the darkness, reminded of other young men who had last departed from him in the same way. An older teenager, one filled with anxiety and stress who had come seeking answers he was not yet ready to handle. Another, older gentleman who departed from Yoda's presence in a greater, more internal, darkness.

Yoda's eyes shut with great effort as his heart hung heavily. He would not try to steer Harry's path the way he did the now dead Anakin Skywalker and Dooku. That had been a failure his rigid old ways had been destined with disaster.

No, he would teach Harry with an open mind and an open heart.

And for that to take place, he had to place his faith in the hands of others.

"Hmm, yes… contact Obi-Wan Kenobi, I will." Yoda sighed with heavy lidded eyes, "And let the Living Force decide if for better or for ill, my actions now are."

* * *

By the time Harry arrived back at Number Four along Privet Drive, he was entering the kitchen from the backdoor just as his Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon were rousing from sleep upstairs. It was another three hours before Dudley was banging on his door for breakfast, but by then Harry had gotten enough of a nap to be coherent in tolerating them as he made his way down into the kitchen, where all three of the Dursleys were already seated around the table. None of them looked up as he entered or sat down.

Uncle Vernon's large rosy face was hidden behind the morning's newspaper. Aunt Petunia was cutting a grapefruit into quarters, her lips pursed over her horse-like teeth. Dudley looked furious and sulky, and somehow seemed to be taking up even more space than usual. This was saying something, as he always took up an entire side of the square table by himself. When Aunt Petunia put a quarter of unsweetened grapefruit onto Dudley's plate with a tremulous, "There you are, Diddy darling," Dudley glowered back at her resentfully. His life had taken an unpleasant turn since he had come home for the summer with his end-of-year report.

Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia had managed to find excuses for his bad marks as usual: Aunt Petunia always insisted that Dudley was a very gifted boy whose teachers didn't understand him. Uncle Vernon maintained that he didn't want some swotty little nancy boy for a son anyway.

They also skated over the accusations of bullying in the report.

"He's a boisterous little boy, but he wouldn't hurt a fly!" Aunt Petunia had said tearfully.

However, at the bottom of the report there were a few well-chosen comments from the school nurse that not even Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia could explain away. No matter how much Aunt Petunia wailed that Dudley was big-boned, and that his poundage was really puppy fat, and that he was a growing boy who needed plenty of food, the fact remained that the school outfitters didn't stock trousers and knickerbockers big enough for him anymore. The school nurse had seen what Aunt Petunia's eyes— so sharp when it came to spotting fingerprints on her gleaming walls, and in observing the comings and goings of the neighbors— simply refused to see: that far from needing extra nourishment, Dudley had reached roughly the size and weight of a young whale.

So, after many tantrums, arguments that shook Harry's bedroom walls, and many tears from Aunt Petunia, the new regime had begun. The diet sheet that had been sent by the Smeltings school nurse had been taped to the fridge, which had been emptied of all Dudley's favorite things. There were no more fizzy drinks and cakes, no chocolate bars and burgers. No, now the fridge was filled to the brim with fruit and vegetables and the sorts of things that Uncle Vernon called "rabbit food." To make Dudley feel better about it all, Aunt Petunia had insisted that the whole family follow the diet too. She now passed a grapefruit quarter to Harry. He casually lifted a brow as he noticed that his was a lot smaller than Dudley's own piece. Aunt Petunia seemed to feel that the best way to keep up Dudley's morale and his tantrums down was to make sure that he did, at least, get more to eat than Harry.

But that was fine with Harry.

After all, his dear aunt didn't know what was hidden under the loose floorboard upstairs in his room. She had no idea that he was not following the diet at all. The moment he had got wind of the fact that he was expected to survive the summer on carrot sticks, Harry had sent Hedwig to his friends with pleas for help, and they had risen to the occasion magnificently.

Hedwig had returned from Hermione's house with a large box stuffed full of sugar-free snacks. A given since her parents were dentists.

Hagrid had obliged with a sack full of his own homemade rock cakes. Harry hadn't touched them, but instead given them to Yoda, who insisted, after tasting them, that they be used in Harry's training their first night together as teacher and student.

Mrs. Weasley, however, had sent the family owl, Errol, with an enormous fruitcake and assorted meat pies. Poor little Errol, who was elderly and feeble, had needed a full five days to recover from the journey. And then on Harry's birthday, a day the Dursleys had completely ignored, he had received four superb birthday cakes. One cake each from Ron, Hermione, Hagrid, and Sirius. Harry still had two of them left, even after sharing some with Yoda. And so, looking forward to a real breakfast when he got back upstairs, he accepted his grapefruit without complaint.

Uncle Vernon laid aside his paper with a deep sniff of disapproval and looked down at his own grapefruit quarter.

"Is this it, Pet?" he said grumpily to Aunt Petunia, who turned sharply toward him with a severe look before nodding pointedly at Dudley. Dudley was too busy to notice as he had already finished his own grapefruit quarter and was eyeing Harry's piece with a very sour look in his piggy little eyes. Uncle Vernon gave a great sigh, which ruffled his large, bushy mustache, and picked up his spoon.

The doorbell rang. Uncle Vernon heaved himself out of his chair and set off down the hall. Quick as a flash, while his mother was occupied with the kettle, Dudley stole the rest of Uncle Vernon's grapefruit. Harry heard talking at the door, and someone laughing, and Uncle Vernon answering curtly. Then the front door closed, and the sound of ripping paper came from the hall. Aunt Petunia set the teapot down on the table and looked curiously around to see where Uncle Vernon had gone. She didn't have to wait long to find out; after about a minute, he was back.

He looked livid.

"You," he barked at Harry. "In the living room. Now."

Bewildered, wondering what he was being blamed for this time, Harry got up and followed his uncle out of the kitchen and into the next room. Uncle Vernon closed the door sharply behind both of them.

"So," he said, marching over to the fireplace and turning to face Harry as though he were about to pronounce him under arrest, "So."

"So what?" Harry said, but it was obvious Uncle Vernon's temper was not to be tested this early in the morning, especially when already under severe stress from lack of food.

"This just arrived," Uncle Vernon hissed through his mustache, brandishing a piece of purple writing paper at Harry. "A letter. About you."

Harry's confusion only increased. Who would be writing to Uncle Vernon about him? Who did he know who sent letters by the postman?

Uncle Vernon glared at Harry, then looked down at the letter, "Look at this," he growled, putting his free hand into his breast pocket before taking out an envelope in which was covered in stamps except for a square inch on the front. That small space was occupied with where Mrs. Weasley had squeezed the Dursleys' address in minute writing.

"She did put enough stamps on, then," Harry said, trying to sound as though Mrs. Weasley's was a mistake anyone could make. His uncle's eyes flashed in response.

"The postman noticed," his uncle stressed through gritted teeth, and at once Harry understood the problem, "Very interested to know where this letter came from, he was. That's why he rang the doorbell. Seemed to think it was funny."

Harry didn't say anything. He had lived with the Dursleys too long not to know how touchy they were about anything even slightly out of the ordinary. Their worst fear was that someone would find out that they were connected, however distantly with people like Mrs. Weasley.

Vernon was still glaring at Harry, who after being around the little green Yoda the past few weeks knew how to keep his expression just as neutral as he wanted it to stay. Even now he felt the Force flowing around him, through him, connecting his calm mind to Uncle Vernon's furious mood. And as the Force did so, it caressed Harry's thoughts with whispers on how he could defuse or incite the situation in so many possible ways. There were so many whispers that Harry had a hard time figuring out which one to follow and which would be too stupid to even entertain. If he didn't do or say anything to sudden or managed not to say something stupid, he might just be in for the treat of a lifetime.

So Harry spoke with the voice of the most reoccurring whisper, "So, can I go then?" he asked with a steady voice. A slight spasm crossed Vernon's large purple face, and his mustache bristled. The Force told Harry just as much as he already knew from his uncle's habits. There was a furious battle of thought as two of Uncle Vernon's most fundamental instincts came into conflict. The first was allowing Harry to go would make Harry happy, something Uncle Vernon had struggled against for thirteen years. On the other hand, there was the second, which was to allow Harry to disappear to the Weasley family for the rest of the summer would get rid of him two weeks earlier than anyone could have hoped, and Uncle Vernon hated having Harry in the house.

" _Let me go, let me go, let me go_ …" Harry muttered the mantra under his breath, and the Force responded to his concentrated pleas.

"All right, all right!" Uncle Vernon said loudly. Harry saw, with some satisfaction, that his uncle looked vaguely dazed.

Had he just used the Force on accident to convince his uncle? Why had Yoda not told him he could do such things with the Force as his ally?

Uncle Vernon blinked once, then twice before he looked down at Mrs. Weasley's letter again. "Who is this woman?" he asked, staring at the signature with something less than aversion.

"You've seen her," Harry replied, "She's my friend Ron's mother, she was meeting him off the school train at the end of last term." He had to stop himself from mentioning the Hogwarts Express, the Force sending a stab of warning through him that saying the name of his school's transport was a sure way to get his uncle's temper up again. Nobody ever mentioned the name of Harry's school aloud in the Dursley household.

Uncle Vernon screwed up his enormous face as though trying to remember something very trivial. "Dumpy sort of woman?" he growled finally, "Load of children with red hair?"

Harry scowled deeply, thinking it a bit rich of his uncle to call anyone "dumpy", especially when his own son Dudley had finally achieved what he'd been threatening to do since the age of three; becoming wider than he was tall.

Vernon was perusing the letter again. "Quidditch," he muttered under his breath. "Quidditch— what is this rubbish?"

Again Harry felt another stab of warning from the Force, but could not fully hold back his irate.

"It's a sport," he said shortly and for added fun he went on, "Played on broom—"

"Enough, enough!" Uncle Vernon grumbled, apparently his nerves couldn't stand the sound of the word "broomsticks" to be said in his living room. He took refuge in perusing the letter again. Harry saw his lips form the words, "send us your answer… in the normal way." At this his portly uncle scowled, but before he asked anything, he shook his head and thrust the letter at Harry, hitting him hard in the chest.

"Well, all right then. You can go to this ruddy, stupid World Cup. You're to write and tell these Weasley folk that they're to pick you up, mind. I haven't got time to go dropping you off all over the country. And you can spend the rest of the summer there, too."

"Okay then," Harry said brightly, and felt the Force around them settle from where it had arisen from its gentle current in response to his needs. Harry turned and walked toward the living room door, fighting the urge to jump into the air and whoop.

He was going to the Weasleys… He was going to watch the Quidditch World Cup!

Harry tried not to smile, to keep his own face as blank as possible as he stepped out of the living room. The look of astonishment on Dudley's face was hilarious, but still Harry did not laugh until he got up to his bedroom, having taken the stairs three at a time, and hurled himself headfirst into his pillow where he roared with rancor laughter. Getting up in order to not disturb his relatives when Uncle Vernon could take back his permission in the wake of giving it, Harry spied Hedwig back in her cage. The snowy owl was staring at him with her enormous amber eyes, and her head was cocked to one side while he made his way over. Finally the owl seemed to give up understanding him and his strange behavior because she began clicking her beak in the way that meant she was annoyed about something. Exactly what was annoying her became apparent almost at once.

"OUCH!" Harry yelped as what appeared to be a small, gray, feathery tennis ball collided with the side of his head. The dark-haired teen massaged his hurt head soothingly, looking up to see what had hit him, and saw a minute owl, small enough to fit into the palm of his hand, whizzing excitedly around the room like a loose firework.

Harry then realized that the owl had dropped a letter at his feet. He bent down, recognizing Ron's handwriting, then tore open the envelope. Inside was a hastily scribbled note. He read the note, then stared at the name given to the little owl now zooming around the light fixture on the ceiling.

Pig.

The emerald-eyed wizard had never seen anything that looked less like a pig. Maybe he just couldn't read Ron's handwriting. The youngest male Weasley had never made any effort to improve his penmanship at all. Harry tried to go back to the letter, but the small grey owl flew low over his head, twittering madly. With an unconscious sixth sense through the Force, Harry could practically taste the pride the owl had in having delivered its letter to him.

"Calm down," Harry said as he smiled up at the little thing. The owl fluttered down on top of Hedwig's cage. Hedwig looked coldly up at it, as though daring it to try and come any closer. "I'll need you to take my answer back to Ron." Harry could sense the owl understood as he snatched up his eagle-feather quill to write back that everything was fine.

He folded the note up very small, and with little difficulty, tied it to the tiny owl's leg as it hopped on the spot with enthusiasm. The moment the note was secure, the owl was off again, zooming out of the window and out of sight. Harry turned to Hedwig, who eyed him in a dignified manner that amused him more than usual. She hooted and ruffled her feathers like an old maid who was just insulted, but Harry smoothed her feathers down while he spoke to her.

"I need you too, Hedwig." He told her, picking up the letter he had wrote in his room yesterday, "Can you take this to Sirius for me?"

Hedwig kept unusually still while he tied the letter to her leg, almost as if determined to show him how a real post owl should behave. "I'll be at the Burrow when you get back, all right?" Harry told her, and knew she understood him more than ever thanks to the universal energy which flowed so serenely between them. She nipped his finger affectionately, then, with a soft swooshing noise, spread her enormous wings and soared out of the open window.

Harry watched her until she was out of sight, then crawled under his bed. He wrenched up the loose floorboard, and pulled out a large chunk of birthday cake. He sat there on the floor eating it, savoring the happiness that was flooding through him. He had cake, and Dudley had nothing but grapefruit. It was a bright summer's day, and he would be leaving Privet Drive soon. His scar had not pained him in the past few weeks. He would be practicing with Yoda again tonight and informing the little green Jedi about his going to watch the Quidditch World Cup. It was hard to feel worried about anything — even Lord Voldemort. Everything felt right with the universe, like the world was better thanks to some unseen hand that guided it toward positivism.

The Force really was exceptionally brilliant, Harry thought, and his last training with Yoda until he returned would only help to strengthen that belief.

* * *

Yoda could see how Harry had at last begun to detach himself from the emotion of pride. The young dark-haired learner was starting to lessen the tension in his shoulders when he entered the woods to find Yoda already waiting for him like always. Harry felt unburdened through the Force. Yoda now knew that after the straight nights of constant training, Harry was beginning to finally open himself to fully experience the flow of the Force.

Halfway through the training of that night, when the diminutive instructor threw the silver bar above Harry's head, the young Jedi student reacted instantly. In a flash he turned to slice the bar into four shiny segments before it fell to the ground. Yoda was pleased and smiled at both Harry's accomplishment and his ironic sense of dry humor.

"Hmm, four this time! Four bars for four weeks now, hmm? The Force you feel, but merriment you act upon." Yoda was still smiling though, sure that Harry meant no disrespect in his actions.

"I thought it was appropriate, Yoda." Harry never felt the need to call Yoda anything like Master, but rather felt it awkward to call the little Jedi Master a professor as well.

Yoda did not reply, sitting on a tangled root. He put his Gimer stick in his mouth, calmly looking at Harry. Yoda shrugged and placidly gnawed his Gimer Stick. Taking a deep breath, Harry continued with his exercises. Yoda watched as his student fell into perfect Moving Meditation. Harry was perfectly calm as he used the exercises to give his mind full focus on the task at hand. Yoda felt tension and strain and doubt flow off Harry and into the Force unconsciously. All of the negative emotions that flickered in Harry's mind yesterday were gone now. Not easily, but they were steadily disappearing as Harry learned to recognize and release them from himself into the power of the galaxy.

The young Jedi learner stood perfectly balanced on one hand, and Yoda knew that Harry finally understood that the Force was with him… always…

Yoda jumped calmly onto the soles of Harry's upturned feet. Harry concentrated serenely on his task and all at once he lifted four fingers from the ground. His balance undisturbed, he held his upside-down position on one thumb. It was simple for Jedi of old, Yoda knew. This chore was accomplished by the children of the old temple, but never after four weeks. Four years, yes, but never only four weeks. Harry's determination and bravery made him a quick student. He was eager to learn and was undaunted by the tests Yoda had devised for him. And now Yoda felt that confidence in his learner through the Force. It was the confidence that when Harry left Yoda's presence soon, it would be as a full-fledged Jedi prepared to take on only the noblest of causes.

The wizard boy was rapidly growing stronger with the Force and, indeed, was accomplishing miracles that the Jedi of old had not dared attempt so quickly after learning. Yoda grew more pleased with his apprentice's progress. Whether it was defending himself or helping those that could not help themselves, Harry would go on to do great things with his newfound Jedi prowess.

"Sense your departure I do," Yoda breathed after he stopped Harry's training and the two sat in the clearing. "Soon at hand our parting will be, hmm?"

"I thought you might already know," Harry muttered with a hand rubbing his dully aching thigh.

"To an event you must go…" Yoda closed his eyes in concentration. "Yes, yes. See it do I. Go you will, and to friends you must be taken. Defend, defend! And take stock of the dark side…"

"I will?" Harry swallowed a lump in his throat. He was not afraid, but he was anxious.

"You _must_." Yoda breathed as he opened his eyes to see physically around him in the present.

"Am I ready?" he asked Yoda, wanting Yoda's honest opinion.

Yoda shared more with him than most other adults in his life ever cared. The little Jedi Master taught him more, and did not think of him as a child. Harry was his student. Age, gender, and any other factors didn't matter when it came to Yoda's belief in the Force. Harry had come to him, and Yoda saw it as the will of the Force. Harry saw it as fate, and cherished it deeply since Yoda had fast become a powerful presence in his life. An adult Harry felt he could turn to when things were tough. Sirius was the only other adult Harry felt that connection with, but Yoda was a nightly stroll away while Harry had to wait days for a reply from Sirius.

Yoda hummed softly and shrugged gently. "Difficult to see. Always in motion is the future." The pint-size elf stood up and began to pace himself in front of Harry. The exaggerated hobble Yoda walked with struck Harry as ironic, given how Yoda jumped and flipped better than anyone else Harry saw in his whole life. The circus folks on television could never compete with Yoda, and Harry felt that even a broom couldn't mimic some of the moves Yoda made while he somersaulted midair without the aid of one.

The Force was really amazing, Harry knew, but only now it dawned on him how amazing and versatile.

"Friends you have," Yoda was saying, making Harry blink to clear away his thoughts and focus on the green elf's words, "And therefore decide you must how to serve them best."

Yoda observed the troubled look on the young wizard's weary face.

"Still much to learn have you," Yoda went on gently. "But, feel the Force you do. Learning to control it you are. A dangerous stage for you this is, Harry. Most susceptible to the temptations of the dark side you are now."

"I've learned so much from you," Harry argued weakly, and felt silly for even having to argue about a future that had not come to past. "You said it yourself, the future is always in motion."

"Yes, yes," Yoda agreed in a nod, "But to me you will listen, young one. Remember your training! Heh? Not just moving it was, but also to the mind. Respect and cherish all life you will."

"I'll be back to finish my practices with you after the school year. I promise that, Yoda."

"Underestimate the dark side of the Force, you do." Yoda told him gravely, shaking his head slowly, "Continue to, and _suffer_ you will. Much suffering you will face if ignorant you are of its shadow."

"Then I have to accept that for myself, right?" Harry asked, rising to his feet. "If you've trained me half as good as I think you have, then I'll be more than ready for anything the wizards can throw at me this year. Then you can teach me even more! For an entire summer!"

Yoda's long ears flopped back low to his head, "Lose you as I did the Jedi of old… Yoda cannot…"

His words stopped Harry cold. The youth sank to the ground, feeling a shroud of guilt envelop him. Yoda rarely ever spoke directly about his fellow Jedi. He didn't know Yoda had lost them, and apparently he was resting hopes on Harry that the young wizard couldn't fully comprehend. Try as he might, he just couldn't see what it was that Yoda wanted from him at the moment.

Was this just another test of the diminutive green Jedi Master? Could he really be subjugated to evil by the dark side? Yoda was making Harry doubt himself, but Harry shook his head and stood tall once more. Doubt was not what Yoda taught him. Yoda taught him to be confident in his choices, and to let the Force guide his path.

The Force whispered with many voices around them. The loudest repeating murmur said for Harry to go and fulfill some greater part of his destiny. Harry did not believe in fate as much as other people did, but at the moment he would not deny the unseen power that Yoda had introduced to him. It had helped him compel his uncle to let him go with the Weasley family. Harry would trust it to help him again now.

"You won't lose me, Yoda." Harry said with conviction, hoping that his tone was reaching Yoda's heart. "You helped me discover the Force, and I'm better for it. The Force is now my ally, and a powerful ally it is."

Yoda peered up at Harry, seeing that the boy was no longer doubting himself even when Yoda had lapsed for the moment into painful memories.

"When meet again we do, tell you I will of Obi-Wan Kenobi and myself. The past we share. The dark secrets we keep. Meet Obi-Wan you will. And with his help, true Jedi you will become. First of new Jedi, Harry Potter. A new hope you are. Patiently wait will I for our next encounter." He breathed calmly as he let his emotions flow with the current of the Force. Yoda understood how deeply concerned he was about his apprentice. He let go of this attachment. Not out of tradition or a sense of misconduct, but to better allow Harry to forge his own destiny. "Strong is the dark side. Clouded is your fate. Mind what you have learned. Notice everything, everything! It can save you."

"I will… Jedi Master Yoda," Harry assured him, the two sharing a smile between them. Harry turned away, but before he raced off back to Number Four, Yoda had more words for him.

"May the Force be with you, Harry Potter," Yoda gurgled slowly as Harry smiled back at him.

"And with you as well, Master Yoda." Harry nodded once and disappeared into the darkness of the forest on his way back to the Dursleys.

Yoda watched Harry Potter run home with the speed of a starship. He lifted his head toward the night sky where he knew both good and evil awaited his return to the known galaxy among the flickering stars.


	4. The Way Harry Walks

**Chapter 4: The Way Harry Walks**

* * *

A man reached out to tap a metal hilt with the toe of his boot. The man grimaced. The laser sword was still attached to a hand. The hand appeared human in shape, but green in pigmentation.

It was Near-Human.

In other words; it was alien.

The man turned from the stump. He was in his study at the moment, a place for reflection, and the severed hand hardly struck the contemplative note. Natural green and rimmed with frost; it ended in a gory stump of frozen blood just above the wrist. He grimaced even further when it struck him that as hard as it had frozen in the bitter vacuum of space, it would be thawing out in a hurry now. If he wasn't careful, it would leave a stain on the tiles. Not a good thing, even though one more bloodstain on the floor of his mansion would hardly be a task for the servants to clean.

On the other side of the man's desk, a teenage girl hefted a thick bag of spoils.

"There wasn't much left of the ship." The young woman said, glancing down only once at the severed hand, "The bomb did its work, and afterward it took me several hours to find that."

"Had it occurred to you that scanning for magnetics would turn up the sword hilt?"

She scowled at him, "No."

He nodded for her to continue, as she obviously had more to say on the subject.

"After finding the laser sword, I thought it was kind of funny he was reaching for his weapon when his ship blew up around him upon landing. Instinct, I suppose."

" _He_ , my young apprentice?" the man purred with interest.

"He, she." The young woman shrugged, "It."

When he had first laid eyes upon her, she had been nothing. Now she was his most trusted associates and a feared scourge to be thought twice about. She was a dagger of a woman, slender and deadly. Even in a world cluttered with hate, such a combination of speed and fury comes only once in a generation. The man slipped a hand into his hair, sliding long blond locks behind an ear as he watched her. He had known that from the first moment they met; she was the rose and the thorn together.

The teenager shrugged. "I never found a head, but I did pick up a few assorted bits out of the wreckage if you want to take a look."

She gave the foil bag a heft, even as her Master regarded her with a razor-thin smile.

"What a little cannibal you have become." He remarked calmly, amusement clear in his tone.

She glared hotly back at him, "I have become only what you made me."

No easy answer to that.

With an expert Force tug, the blond man brought the severed hand, still clutching its weapon, to hang in the air in front of him. Before the spaceship explosion had ripped the hand so untidily from the rest of its body, he rather thought it might have been olive-skinned. The dead flesh, unconnected to any spirit, was merely matter now; no more interesting than a table leg or a wax candle, and bearing no more imprint of its owner's soul and personality.

The blond mentor always found this astonishing: how transitory the relationship was between one's body and oneself. The spirit is a puppeteer to make one's flesh limbs dance: but cut the spirit's strings, and nothing remains but meat and paint, cloth and bone.

A laser sword; the tool of the Jedi. Now, that was something different. Each weapon was unique, built and rebuilt by its owner, made to be a pure expression of Self.

The man ran one finger along the handle of the dead Jedi's tool. The force of the explosion had stripped off half the casing and fused its works so it would never burn again, but the essential pattern was obvious still.

"Howard Chang," he murmured. To his surprise, he found he was sad.

"That makes six now, my Master," the girl dropped to the floor in a kneeling position, her head bowed in reverence. "Seven, it should have been, if you had allowed me to kill that one from years before."

The blond man turned, his long hair fanning out slightly at the sharpness of motion. Released from his attention, the gory hand and the handle it clutched dropped with a wet thump and clatter to the floor. The Master walked to the window of his study.

Beyond the study window it was raining. And of course it was. It often rained in England no matter the season. In the distance, toward the seashore, his land extended with the same twisted personality as his own. A few twisted thorn-trees raised their claws at the dolorous sky. He watched rain run like tear tracks down his windows.

"The last time I saw Howard Chang, he must have been... younger than you, even. A handsome young man. His country had sent him, a prodigy of his nation, on his first international competition in Quidditch … to Egypt, I think it was. I was in attendance, and we made small talk around the sport. If I remember correctly, my wife commented on his striking eyes. Very gray and steady, she said. I remember thinking he would do well in any career he pursued."

The girl raised from her knightly post on the floor and flipped back her curtain of dark brown hair. She picked up the bloody hand and tossed it into her woolen bag. "You may be great, my Master, but you're not much of a fortune-teller."

"You think not?" he turned to consider the dead Jedi's murderer. "Howard Chang lived in service, however misguided, and acted by the star of his principles, however incomplete. By that judging, how many lives are better?"

"Yeah, but lots are longer, though." The young woman muttered while tying a knot in the bag and tossed it into the corner of the room.

The young woman shifted unconsciously into what the blond mentor recognized as the echo of a fighting stance; shoulders squared, chin up and aggressive, hands high. Her face became hard and pug-like, an expression he tried hard to wipe from her facial features.

"If you ask me," she said, watching the bag hit into the corner of the room with a wet thud, "that's not what winning looks like."

"You have a point," he sighed, and the young girl licked her lips.

Here it comes, he thought as he suddenly felt very tired.

The woman took a deep breath. "Make me your apprentice."

"It's not the time–" he began, but she cut him off.

"When I do your bidding, I don't need it to be right or reasoned or even sane: I do it because you ask it of me!" She snapped, "Have I not served well?"

"You have served superbly… and I know it…" he admitted.

"Then reward me! Make me your apprentice! Teach me the old ways!"

"Have I not taught you many secrets already, young one?" he asked with the razor-thin smile once again on his face. He knew it made him persuasively handsome, but the girl was not dismayed from her goal.

"Scraps. Little devices. Lesser arts." She growled in anger, "Not nearly what you would if I were your apprentice sworn in blood, I know. I am no fool!"

As if he didn't know that. As if she needed to convince him she was deadly.

He sighed once again, dropping into the chair behind his desk while feeling very weary now. "It is a tricky business, this making of apprentices," he said, more to himself than to her, "The master must find a pupil in whom old magic runs strong."

"Six dead followers of that ancient religion is perhaps some testament to that!" She snarled, "Should have been seven," she added.

"No," he shook his head, blond hair swaying slightly, "That one would have cut you down. Even now, he is far more powerful than you think. I can sense him, as he does me. Even so many kilometers apart, he outweighs my power and yours."

"My powers have doubled in years passed!" she objected, and had apparently played right into his hands, because the razor-thin smile was back and aimed at her again.

"Yes, they have improved greatly and sharpened with the deadliness of a knife. But, in saying that, do I really want to make you so much stronger?" he inquired softly, raising from his seat. "We are such pleasant company now… That is, while you know your place. But if I were to make you my true apprentice, if I were to take you by the hand and lead you down below the black water that is the Old Ways, then either you would drown, or you would grow far stronger, and neither option appeals to me. You burn so brightly now, I would hate to dim your star."

"Why should you?" she asked, appearing bewildered, "What harm is there in teaching me to help you better?"

"You would betray me." he shrugged, cutting off her protests. "It is the unhappy hazard of embracing the dark side. I am older than even your parents, and I have learned the limits of my ambition. You are young, and strong, and those two things have always led to one place in history."

"You think I would intrigue against you?" she asked, sounding almost naively horrified.

"Not at first. But a day would come when you would disagree with my decisions. When you would start to dream of how much better things would be without my high hand held over you."

"I disagree with your decisions right now," she spat. He smiled that sharp smile once more.

"I don't have your appetites. I can wait on my kills, and use them better. And for now, you might disagree, but you dare not disobey."

And here, with the razor smile, he lifted just one finger.

She blanched.

"True," she admitted begrudgingly.

The blond man let his finger drop.

"In a perfect world," he began anew, his eyes distant, as if remembering when he was but the learner, "one could feed an apprentice just enough to keep them growing-just enough to keep them wanting more. The Master could promise the learner fame, glamour. That's always been a good one to deliver on. The apprentice could do the Master's bidding, be his public face. Then if any of the Master's plans went wrong, why, the pupil could take the fall."

The blond man looked up, his eyes suddenly sharp and very much in the present. "Does that sound good to you? Would you truly like to be my apprentice? I could make you the most feared woman in the world – in the _galaxy_. All the Jedi would come looking for you, while I sat safe and sound here in my manor in Wiltshire, biding my time."

The girl licked her lips again. "Let them come!" she said, and the man laughed.

"Ah, to be young again and full of hate!" he enjoyed a good laugh every now and then, "You would be like the sun! Great to everyone! Everyone, that is, but _me_ … But I'd have to keep you humble, you realize. I'd have to goad and needle and hurt you, to keep you in your place. Every secret the apprentice learns, he pays for dearly. Oh yes, does he pays…" the man pushed back his blond hair hurriedly as he paused, his eyes closing for a moment as if to shut out some terrible memory.

The young woman regarded him narrowly. "You don't think I'm worthy."

He leveled her with a deadpan look, one he learned well from his wife, "You're not listening, are you?"

"You're not saying anything to the point!" she said angrily, "Was it that Jedi? Should I have killed him? I was following your orders, but perhaps that was the test."

Her eyes narrowed even further, "Yes, I should have showed more initiative. That's what you're waiting for. You don't need a minion. Those you have in plenty at the Ministry and inside Hogwarts. You need something… _more_."

The man watched her in bemusement, "How strange it is, to know your every thought before you think it."

"Not even old magic can give you that power." She hissed, slightly unnerved. The blond master smiled again.

"I have a power greater than the dark side, my little one. I am experienced." He smiled once again, this one appearing more real, "Your fresh furies are my past mistakes."

He and the young woman snapped to attention even before there was a knock at the door to his study. A servant wheezed that the guests had arrived before shuffling off. The blond mentor wondered briefly if he should call the old man back to clean the specks of blood from his study's floor. He thought better of it, though. No sense in startling the help at this early hour.

"Ah. Our latest batch of guests is arriving. Loyal beings and true, for the Pureblood cause and a three percent profit. Go meet them at the door. You always make such an impression on visitors."

"Don't patronize me," she spat at him coldly.

The blond man regarded her evenly with an eyebrow lifted, "Or what?"

Her face went pale as he lifted that one finger, and this time he tapped it in the air, as if pushing a needle into a pincushion. The teenage girl crumpled to her knees. Her voice came out clotted with pain. "Please," she said. "Don't."

"It doesn't feel very good, does it? Like sharp stones in your throat and chest." The blond made another little patting motion, and the girl's brow hair splashed out around her as she was slammed to the tile floor.

"It's the blood vessels I hate," he said with a shake of his head, "The way they stretch inside, like balloons about to pop. It's a refined method of cruelty, but cruelty all the same. It's a disguised barbaric technique, is all. Still very uncivilized."

"P-P-Please…" she begged.

"But worse than anything is the memories," he said, more softly still. "They crowd around inside your skull, like flies on meat. Every despicable thing, every petty vice, every little act of spite. All of it flashing into view; for yourself and me."

A cruel, strange quiet stretched out as the girl panted on the stone floor. Rain ticked against the window glass, and the blond master's soft voice went dark and far away. "All the things you should have stopped, but didn't, and nothing will ever be right again. And the things you've done," he whispered. "By the pitiless stars above, the things you've done…"

"Husband," the voice of his wife floated into the room. The blond man shook his head, like a man waking from a dream. "The Puritan delegation is at the door to discuss policy. Stop playing with your student, and begin business."

When he looked down at his student, he saw that she had taken the lapse in torture to crawl to her feet. Her face was bruised and her cheeks were wet with tears.

Both pretended not to notice.

"Tell them I'll be right down," he said, and felt his wife agree to his request. The girl also agreed, bowing to him before exiting the room in a masked hurry.

He sighed to himself and dropped unceremoniously into his desk chair. Physically, the blond man's age was rarely a handicap. Indeed, he was now out of his prime, but he had long since become a deft hand with ancient magic. He chuckled to himself as he realized that he was unimaginably more subtle than the boy who had displayed his prowess in the Dark Arts to his then-girlfriend, now-wife. He wore his forty years better than most wizards half his age. He was still in superb physical shape, senses keen, health undiminished by even the memory of a cold.

Only in this situation, stooped before the memories of his past actions and regrets, did he feel his years. The thoughts in his head, hideous in their distorted shadows, seemed to strip his false youth away, leaving his bones to slowly become brittle, his joints wearing thin and his muscles knotting with tension.

Perhaps it was, in fact, the right time to take the young girl on fully as his apprentice? Yes, perhaps so…

* * *

By twelve o'clock the next day, Harry's school trunk was packed with his school things and all his most prized possessions — the Invisibility Cloak he had inherited from his father, the broom stick he had gotten from Sirius, the enchanted map of Hogwarts he had been given by Fred and George Weasley last year. He had emptied his hiding place under the loose floorboard of all food, double-checked every nook and cranny of his bedroom for forgotten spellbooks or quills, and taken down the chart on the wall counting down the days to September the first, on which he liked to cross off the days remaining until his return to Hogwarts.

The atmosphere inside number four, Privet Drive was extremely tense. The imminent arrival at their house of an assortment of wizards was making the Dursleys uptight and irritable. Uncle Vernon had looked downright alarmed when Harry informed him that the Weasleys would be arriving at five o'clock the very next day.

"I hope you told them to dress properly, these people," he snarled at once. "I've seen the sort of stuff _your_ lot wear. They'd better have the decency to put on normal clothes, that's all."

Harry felt a slight sense of foreboding. He had rarely seen Mr. or Mrs. Weasley wearing anything that the Dursleys would call "normal." Their children might don Muggle clothing during the holidays, but Mr. and Mrs. Weasley usually wore long robes in varying states of shabbiness. Harry wasn't bothered about what the neighbors would think, but he was anxious about how rude the Dursleys might be to the Weasleys if they turned up looking like their worst idea of wizards.

Uncle Vernon had put on his best suit. To some people, this might have looked like a gesture of welcome, but Harry knew it was because Uncle Vernon wanted to look impressive and intimidating.

Dudley, on the other hand, looked somehow diminished. This was not because the diet was at last taking effect, but due to fright. Dudley had emerged from his last encounter with a fully-grown wizard with a curly pig's tail poking out of the seat of his trousers, and Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon had had to pay for its removal at a private hospital in London. It wasn't altogether surprising, therefore, that Dudley kept running his hand nervously over his backside, and walking sideways from room to room, so as not to present the same target to the enemy.

Lunch was an almost silent meal. Dudley didn't even protest at the food (cottage cheese and grated celery). Aunt Petunia wasn't eating anything at all. Her arms were folded, her lips were pursed, and she seemed to be chewing her tongue, as though biting back the furious diatribe she longed to throw at Harry.

"They'll be driving, of course?" Uncle Vernon barked across the table.

"Er," Harry had no easy answer to that. Wizards had many different ways of travel, so how _were_ the Weasleys going to pick him up? They didn't have a car anymore; the old Ford Anglia they had once owned was currently running wild in the Forbidden For est at Hogwarts. But Mr. Weasley had borrowed a Ministry of Magic car last year. Could it be counted on that he would possibly do the same today?

"I think so," Harry conceded, even as his uncle snorted into his mustache. Normally, Uncle Vernon would have asked what car Mr. Weasley drove; he tended to judge other men by how big and expensive their cars were. But Harry doubted whether Uncle Vernon would have taken to Mr. Weasley even if he drove a Ferrari.

Harry spent most of the afternoon in his bedroom, focusing his mind on other things. He couldn't stand watching Aunt Petunia peer out through the curtains every few seconds, as though there had been a warning about an es caped rhinoceros from the local zoo.

Finally, at a quarter to five, Harry went back downstairs and into the living room.

Aunt Petunia was compulsively straightening cushions. Uncle Vernon was pretending to read the paper, but his tiny eyes were not moving, and Harry was sure he was really listening with all his might for the sound of an approaching car. Dudley was crammed into an armchair, his porky hands beneath him, clamped firmly around his bottom. Harry couldn't take the tension; he left the room and went and sat on the stairs in the hall, his eyes on his watch and his heart pumping fast from excitement and nerves.

But five o'clock came and then went. Uncle Vernon, perspiring slightly in his suit, opened the front door, peered up and down the street, and then withdrew his head quickly.

"They're late!" he snarled at Harry.

"I know," Harry said, wondering if meditating on the Force would help to calm his nerves. "Maybe — er — the traffic's bad, or something."

Ten past five … then a quarter past five … Harry started to quiet his mind by concentrating on his own breathing rather than the time. When he finally thought he was calm enough, he came out of his own sphere of focus only to hear his aunt and uncle conversing in terse mutters in the living room.

"No consideration at all."

"We might've had an engagement."

"Maybe they think they'll get invited to dinner if they're late."

"Well, they most certainly won't be," Uncle Vernon snapped, and Harry heard him stand up and start pacing the living room. "They'll take the boy and go, there'll be no hanging around. That's if they're coming at all. Probably mistaken the day. I daresay _their kind_ don't set much store by punctuality. Either that or they drive some tin-pot car that's broken d— AAAAAAAARRRRRGH!"

Harry jumped up, a spike of his uncle's panic sending waves through the Force around him. From the other side of the living room door came the sounds of the three Dursleys scrambling, panic-stricken, across the room. Next moment Dudley came flying into the hall, looking terrified.

Harry hurried into the living room, breaking past Dudley. "What happened? What's the matter?"

But Dudley didn't seem able to speak. Hands still clamped over his buttocks, he waddled as fast as he could into the kitchen.

Loud hangings and scrapings were coming from behind the Dursleys' boarded-up fireplace, which had a fake coal fire plugged in front of it.

"What is it?" Aunt Petunia gasped, backed into the wall and staring, terrified, toward the fire. "What is it, Vernon?"

But they were left in doubt barely a second longer. Voices could be heard from inside the blocked fireplace.

"Ouch! Fred, no — go back, go back, there's been some kind of mistake — tell George not to — OUCH! George, no, there's no room, go back quickly and tell Ron—"

"Maybe Harry can hear us, Dad — maybe he'll be able to let us out —"

There was a loud hammering of fists on the boards behind the electric fire.

"Harry? Harry, can you hear us?" the Dursleys rounded on Harry like a pair of angry wolverines. He did not notice their angry stares as his attention was focused too keenly on the fireplace.

"What is this?" Uncle Vernon growled, his fists clenching at the sides of his best suit, "What's going on?"

"They… They've tried to get here by Floo powder," Harry said through the desire to laugh like a nutter in the loony bin, "They can travel by fireplace. Only, you've blocked the fireplace." he informed his uncle while approaching the hearth, "Hang on."

"Mr. Weasley? Can you hear me?" Harry called through the boards. The hammering stopped.

Somebody inside the chimney piece said, "Shh!"

"Mr. Weasley, this is Harry. The fireplace has been boarded up. You won't be able to get through there."

"Damn!" Mr. Weasley's voice swore, "What in the name of Merlin did they want to block up the fireplace for?"

"They have an electric fire," Harry explained with a grin overcoming his face, because surely he knew Mr. Weasley's reaction to that statement.

"Really?" said Mr. Weasley's voice excitedly. "Eclectic, you say? With a plug? Gracious, I must see that… Let's think… Ouch, Ron!"

Ron's voice now joined the others in the hearth, "What are we doing here? Has something gone wrong?"

"Oh no, Ron," came Fred's voice, very sarcastically, "No, this is exactly where we wanted to end up."

"Yeah, we're having the time of our lives here," George said now, his voice sounded muffled though, like he was squashed against the wall or something.

"Boys, boys…" Mr. Weasley voiced vaguely, "I'm trying to think what to do… Yes… Only way… Stand back, Harry."

Harry sighed before unplugging the electric fire and retreating to the sofa.

Uncle Vernon, however, moved forward like a territorial walrus, "Wait a moment!" he bellowed at the fire. "What exactly are you going to—?"

 _ **BANG**_!

The boarded-up fireplace burst outward, expelling Mr. Weasley, Fred, George, and Ron in a cloud of rubble and loose chippings. Aunt Petunia shrieked and fell backward over the coffee table; Uncle Vernon caught her before she hit the floor, and gaped, speechless, at the Weasleys, all of whom had bright red hair, including Fred and George, who were identical to their very last freckle.

"That's better," Mr. Weasley panted through the dim, brushing dust from his long green robes and straightening his glasses, "Ah!" he moved toward Uncle Vernon, his hand outstretched, "you must be Harry's aunt and uncle!"

Tall, thin, and balding, he smiled pleasantly at the great plump man, but Vernon backed away several paces, dragging Petunia with him. Words utterly failed Uncle Vernon, his best suit covered in white dust, which had settled in his hair and mustache. It made him look as though he had just aged thirty years in the last thirty seconds.

"Er… Yes, sorry about that," Mr. Weasley lowered his hand and looked over his shoulder at the destroyed fireplace, "It's all my fault. It just didn't occur to me that we wouldn't be able to get out at the other end. I had your fireplace connected to the Floo Network, you see. Just for an afternoon, you know, so we could get Harry. Muggle fireplaces aren't supposed to be connected, strictly speaking, but I've got a useful contact at the Floo Regulation Panel and he fixed it for me. I can put it right in a jiffy, though, don't worry. I'll light a fire to send the boys back, and then I can repair your fireplace before I Disapparate."

Harry was ready to bet that the Dursleys hadn't understood a single word of the man's ramblings. They were still gaping at Mr. Weasley, thunderstruck. Aunt Petunia staggered upright again and hid behind Uncle Vernon.

"Hello, Harry!" Mr. Weasley greeted brightly, turning his smile and handshake to Harry, who happily accepted it, "Got your trunk ready?"

"Yes, it's upstairs," Harry answered easily enough.

"We'll get it," Fred announced at once, winking at Harry as he and George left the room. They knew where Harry's bedroom was, having once rescued him from it in the dead of night. Harry suspected that Fred and George were hoping for a glimpse of Dudley.

After all, they had heard _a lot_ about him from Harry.

"Well," Mr. Weasley began again, swinging his arms slightly. He was trying to find words to break the very nasty silence. "Very, erm… very nice place you've got here."

As the usually spotless living room was now covered in dust and bits of brick, this remark didn't go down too well with the Dursleys. Uncle Vernon's face purpled once more, and Aunt Petunia started chewing her tongue again. However, they seemed too scared to actually say anything. Mr. Weasley was looking around now, his eyes seeming to dart in every direction. He loved everything to do with Muggles. Harry could see him itching to go and examine the television and the video recorder.

"They run off eckeltricity, do they?" he said knowledgeably, puffing out his chest a bit, "Ah yes, I can see the plugs. I collect plugs," he added to Uncle Vernon, like a man talking about what sort of car he drove, "And batteries. Got a very large collection of batteries. My wife thinks I'm mad, but there you are."

Uncle Vernon clearly thought Mr. Weasley was mad, too. He moved ever so slightly to the right, screening Aunt Petunia from view, as though he thought Mr. Weasley might suddenly run at them and attack.

Dudley suddenly reappeared in the room. Harry could hear the clunk of his trunk on the stairs, and knew that the sounds must have scared the meaty boy out of hiding in the kitchen. Dudley edged along the wall, gazing at Mr. Weasley with terrified eyes, and attempted to conceal himself behind his mother and father. Unfortunately, Uncle Vernon's bulk, while sufficient to hide bony Aunt Petunia, was nowhere near enough to conceal Dudley.

"Ah, this is your cousin, is it, Harry?" Mr. Weasley smiled, taking another brave stab at making conversation.

"Yes," Harry, "his name is Dudley." he exchanged quick glances with Ron, the temptation to burst out into laughter was almost overwhelming at this point for both of them.

Dudley was still clutching his bottom as though afraid it might fall off. Mr. Weasley, however, seemed genuinely concerned at Dudley's peculiar behavior. Indeed, from the tone of his voice when he next spoke, Harry was quite sure that Mr. Weasley thought Dudley was quite as mad as the Dursleys thought he was, except that Mr. Weasley felt sympathy rather than fear.

"Having a good holiday, Dudley?" Mr. Weasley asked kindly.

Dudley whimpered. Harry saw his cousin's hands tighten still harder over his massive backside.

Fred and George came back into the room carrying Harry's school trunk. They glanced around as they entered and spotted Dudley. Their faces cracked into identical vicious grins.

"Alright," Mr. Weasley said, pushing up the sleeves of his robes, "better get cracking then." he took out his wand, and Harry saw the Dursleys draw back against the wall as one.

" _ **Incendio**_!" Mr. Weasley intoned, pointing his wand at the hole in the wall behind him. Flames rose at once in the fireplace, crackling merrily as though they had been burning for hours. The head of Weasley family took a small drawstring bag from his pocket. He untied it and took a pinch of the powder inside before he threw the pinch of powder onto the flames. The flames reared up, turning emerald green and roared higher than ever.

"Off you go then, Fred," Mr. Weasley said as he cast a look back at his present oldest son.

"Coming," Fred said, then something spilled out from his pocket as he stepped over a chunk of splintered wood, "Oh no — hang on." It was a bag of sweets, and now the contents were rolling in every direction. Harry observed in silence as Fred scrambled around on the floor chasing after big, fat toffees in brightly colored wrappers. The teen crammed them back into his pocket, then gave the Dursleys a cheery wave.

"The Burrow!" he said clearly, stepping forward, and walking right into the fire.

Aunt Petunia gave a little shuddering gasp.

There was a whooshing sound, and Fred vanished.

"Right then, George," Mr. Weasley said, pointing down at Harry's luggage, "you and the trunk." Harry helped George carry the trunk forward into the flames and turn it onto its end so that he could hold it better.

Then, with a second whoosh, George had cried "the Burrow!" and vanished too.

"Ron, you next."

"See ya!" Ron said brightly to the Dursleys. He grinned broadly at Harry, then stepped into the fire, "The Burrow!" he shouted and disappeared.

Now Harry and Mr. Weasley alone remained.

"Well … 'bye then," Harry nodded to the Dursleys.

They didn't say anything at all. Harry moved toward the fire, but just as he reached the edge of the hearth, Mr. Weasley put out a hand and held him back. He was looking at the Dursleys in amazement.

"Harry said good-bye to you," he said. "Didn't you hear him?"

"It doesn't matter," Harry muttered to Mr. Weasley. "Honestly, I don't care."

Mr. Weasley did not remove his hand from Harry's shoulder.

"You aren't going to see your nephew till next summer," he said to Uncle Vernon in mild indignation. "Surely you're going to say good-bye?"

Uncle Vernon's face worked furiously. The idea of being taught consideration by a man who had just blasted away half his living room wall seemed to be causing him intense suffering. But Mr. Weasley's wand was still in his hand, and Uncle Vernon's tiny eyes darted to it once, before he said, very resentfully, "Good-bye, then."

"See you," Harry waved them off a little, putting one foot forward into the green flames, which felt pleasantly like a warm breath. At that moment, however, a horrible gagging sound erupted behind him, and Aunt Petunia started to scream.

Harry wheeled around. Dudley was no longer standing behind his parents. He was kneeling beside the coffee table, and he was gagging and sputtering on a foot-long, purple, slimy thing that was protruding from his mouth. One bewildered second later, Harry realized that the foot-long thing was Dudley's tongue — and that a brightly colored toffee wrapper lay on the floor before him.

Aunt Petunia hurled herself onto the ground beside Dudley, seized the end of his swollen tongue, and attempted to wrench it out of his mouth; unsurprisingly, Dudley yelled and sputtered worse than ever, trying to fight her off. Uncle Vernon was bellow ing and waving his arms around, and Mr. Weasley had to shout to make himself heard.

"Not to worry, I can sort him out!" he yelled, advancing on Dudley with his wand outstretched, but Aunt Petunia screamed worse than ever and threw herself on top of Dudley, shielding him from Mr. Weasley.

"No, really!" Mr. Weasley spoke desperately. "It's a simple process — it was the toffee — my son Fred — real practical joker — but it's only an Engorgement Charm — at least, I think it is — please, I can correct it—"

But far from being reassured, the Dursleys became more panic-stricken; Aunt Petunia was sobbing hysterically, tugging Dudley's tongue as though determined to rip it out; Dudley appeared to be suffocating under the combined pressure of his mother and his tongue; and Uncle Vernon, who had lost control completely, seized a china figure from on top of the sideboard and threw it very hard at Mr. Weasley, who ducked, causing the ornament to shatter in the blasted fireplace.

"Now really!" said Mr. Weasley angrily, brandishing his wand. "I'm trying to _help_!"

Bellowing like a wounded hippo, Uncle Vernon snatched up an other ornament.

"Harry, go! Just go!" Mr. Weasley shouted, his wand on Uncle Vernon. "I'll sort this out!"

Harry didn't want to miss the fun, but Uncle Vernon's second ornament narrowly missed his left ear, and on balance he thought it best to leave the situation to Mr. Weasley. He stepped into the fire, looking over his shoulder as he said "the Burrow!"

Harry's last fleeting glimpse of the living room was of Mr. Weasley blasting a third ornament out of Uncle Vernon's hand with his wand, Aunt Petunia screaming and lying on top of Dudley, and Dudley's tongue lolling around like a great slimy python. But the next moment, Harry had be gun to spin very fast, and the Dursleys' living room was whipped out of sight in a rush of emerald-green flames.

Harry spun faster and faster, elbows tucked tightly to his sides, blurred fireplaces flashing past him, until he started to feel sick and closed his eyes. Then, when at last he felt himself slowing down, he threw out his hands and came to a halt in time to prevent himself from falling face forward out of the Weasleys' kitchen fire.

"Did he eat it?" Fred's voice came from above him in excitement. When Harry looked up, Fred was standing over him with a hand out to pull Harry to his feet.

"What was it?" he cast a pointed look at Fred, but it was George who answered.

"Ton-Tongue Toffee," George answered brightly, "Fred and me invented them, and we've been looking for someone to test them on all summer…" The tiny kitchen exploded with laughter; Harry looked around and saw that Ron was sitting at the scrubbed wooden table with two red-haired people Harry had never seen before, though he knew immediately who they had to be.

Bill and Charlie, the two eldest Weasley brothers.

"How're you doing, Harry?" said the nearer of the two, grinning at him and holding out a large hand, which Harry shook, feeling calluses and blisters under his fingers. This one had to be Charlie, who worked with dragons in Romania.

Charlie was built like the twins, shorter and stockier than Percy and Ron, who were both long and lanky. He had a broad, good-natured face, which was weather-beaten and so freckly that he looked almost tanned. His arms were muscular, and one of them had a large, shiny burn on it.

Bill got to his feet, smiling, and also shook Harry's hand.

Bill came as something of a surprise. Harry knew that he worked for the Wizarding bank, Gringotts, and that Bill had been Head Boy at Hogwarts. Harry had always imagined Bill to be an older version of Percy: fussy about rule-breaking and fond of bossing everyone around. However, Bill was — and there was no other word for it — cool. He was tall, with long hair that he had tied back in a ponytail. He was wearing an earring with what looked like a fang dangling from it. Bill's clothes would not have looked out of place at a rock concert, except that Harry recognized his boots to be made, not of leather, but of dragon hide.

Before any of them could say anything else, there was a faint popping noise, and Mr. Weasley appeared out of thin air at George's shoulder. He was looking angrier than Harry had ever seen him.

"That was _not_ in the least bit funny, Fred!" the man shouted, "What in Merlin's name did you give that boy?"

"I didn't _give_ him anything," Fred defended, with another evil grin, "I just _dropped_ it. It was his fault he went and ate it, the great pig. I never told him to."

"YOU DROPPED IT ON PURPOSE!" Mr. Weasley roared as Harry never heard him this loud before, "You knew he'd eat it, you knew he was on a diet—"

"How big did his tongue get?" George asked eagerly.

"It was four feet long before his parents would let me shrink it!"

Harry and the Weasleys roared with laughter again.

" _IT ISN'T FUNNY_!" Mr. Weasley shouted, gripping at the air as if he wanted to bend one of the twins over his knee, "That sort of behavior seriously undermines Wizard–Muggle Relations! I spend half my life campaigning against the mistreatment of Muggles, and my own sons—"

"Oi now, we didn't give it to him because he's Muggle!" Fred shot back indignantly.

"Yeah, no, we gave it to him because he's a great bullying git," George crossed his arms and turned to Harry, "Isn't he, Harry?"

"Yes, this is true," Harry was still greatly amusing himself with the image of Dudley's swollen tongue. Now that he was away from all the noise and yelling, he found the whole situation more amusing than anything else. Yoda would be smacking him with his walking stick by now, telling him how wrong it was, but Harry honestly didn't care at the moment. Dudley was a bully and deserved at least as much as the twins gave.

"THAT IS _NOT_ THE POINT!" Mr. Weasley raged on, then pointed a threatening finger toward the twins, "You wait until I tell your _mother_ —"

"Tell me what?" called a voice behind them. Mrs. Weasley had just entered the kitchen. She was a short, plump woman with a very kind face, though her eyes were presently narrowed with suspicion. "Oh hello, Harry, dear," she said, spotting him and smiling. Then her eyes snapped back to her husband, losing their warmth and glittering dangerously, "Tell me what, Arthur?"

Mr. Weasley hesitated. Harry could tell, even without the Force, that no matter how angry he was with Fred and George, Mr. Weasley hadn't really intended to tell his wife what had happened. There was a silence, while Mr. Weasley eyed his wife nervously.

Then two girls appeared in the kitchen doorway behind Mrs. Weasley. One was Hermione Grange, Harry and Ron's bushy brown haired friend with rather large front teeth. The other was Ron's younger sister and the baby of the Weasley family, Ginny, who was small and red-haired just like all of her siblings. Both of them smiled at Harry, who grinned back with a nod of his head, which made Ginny go scarlet. She had been very taken with Harry ever since his first visit to the Burrow.

"Tell me what, Arthur?" Mrs. Weasley repeated in a threatening tone that made even Harry stand up straighter. Dumbledore and Yoda would never make Harry snap to attention the way Mrs. Weasley's tone alone could. He wondered for a moment if his own mother would have been able to inject such fear in him had she still been alive to do so.

Just another reason to hate Voldemort.

"It's nothing, Molly," mumbled Mr. Weasley, "Fred and George just — but I've had words with them—"

"What have they done this time?" Mrs. Weasley asked, "If it's got anything to do with Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes—"

"Why don't you show Harry where he's sleeping, Ron?" Hermione said from the doorway.

"He knows where he's sleeping," Ron said with a dismissive wave of his hand, "He'll be up in my room. He slept there last sum—"

"We can all go," Hermione spat pointedly, and that bickered no argument when Ron saw the look she was giving him.

"Oh, right." Ron ducked his head as he caught on.

"Yeah, we'll come too," George said, tugging on Fred's shirt.

"YOU TWO STAY RIGHT WHERE YOU ARE!" Mrs. Weasley snarled.

Truly the matron of the family was a force all her own with just the fury Harry saw in her eyes as he and Ron edged out of the kitchen. They would soon be followed by Hermione and Ginny, setting off along the narrow hallway and up the rickety staircase that zigzagged through the house to the upper stories.

"What is Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes?" Harry asked as they climbed up the stairs. Ron and Ginny both laughed, although Hermione perched her lips thinly in silence.

"Mum found this stack of order forms when she was cleaning Fred and George's room," Ron told him quietly, "Great long price lists for stuff they've invented. Joke stuff, you know. Fake wands and trick sweets, loads of stuff. It was brilliant, I never knew they'd been inventing all that."

"We've been hearing explosions out of their room for ages, but we never thought they were actually making things," Ginny explained with a shrug, "We thought they just liked the noise."

"Only, most of the stuff — well, all of it, really — was a bit dangerous," Ron looked like he did not think so, "and, you know, they were planning to sell it at Hogwarts to make some money, and Mum went roaring at them. Told them they weren't allowed to make any more of it, and burned all the order forms… She's furious at them anyway. They didn't get as many O.W.L.s as she expected."

"And then there was this big row," Ginny once again filled in the more important details, "because Mum wants them to go into the Ministry of Magic like Dad, and they told her all they want to do is open a joke shop."

"Well, they should do what makes them happy." Harry said, and indeed felt that was the right thing. Life was short, and not taking chances was something that people came to regret. Harry couldn't imagine his life without taking the chance to get to know Ron better on the train, or rushing to save Hermione from the troll back in their first years, or to go down into the Chamber of Secrets to rescue Ginny in his second year. Life was about choices, and if you didn't do what made you happy, or what you felt was right; well then, Harry was of the opinion that you were wasting your life.

Even before the door had opened, Harry could feel ripples of annoyance coming closer toward it. Then it was confirmed when a face poked out wearing horn-rimmed glasses and a very irritated expression.

"Hello, Percy," Harry greeted casually through the awkward silence that quickly engulfed their conversation.

"Oh hello, Harry," Percy said back with a nod of his head, "I was wondering who was making all the noise. I'm trying to work in here, you know. I've got a report to finish for the office, you see, and it's rather difficult to concentrate when people keep thundering up and down the stairs at all times during the day."

"We're not _thundering_ ," Ron snapped irritably, crossing his arms, "We're walking. Sorry if we've disturbed the top-secret workings of the Ministry of Magic."

"What are you working on, if you don't mind my asking?" Harry inquired, knowing that Percy would be less pleasant if he did not ask. People like Percy loved what they did, and Harry was sure he would appreciate someone asking about it, even if only for show.

"A report for the Department of International Magical Cooperation," Percy began smugly whilst Harry could sense the rather long explanation ahead, "We're trying to standardize cauldron thickness. Some of these foreign imports are just a shade too thin. Leakages have been increasing at a rate of almost three percent a year—"

"That'll change the world, that report will," Ron said with a nod of his head, "Front page of the Daily Prophet, I expect, cauldron leaks."

Percy went slightly pink.

"You might sneer, Ron," the pompous boy said heatedly, "but unless some sort of international law is imposed we might well find the market flooded with flimsy, shallow-bottomed products that seriously endanger—"

"Yes well," Harry interrupted, pushing Ron onward. He had greatly underestimated just how much Percy took pride in his work, "we'll let you get back to righting the wrongs. Your promptness is your grace, after all." they started off up the stairs again, and not a moment later did Percy slam his bedroom door shut. As Harry, Hermione, and Ginny followed Ron up three more flights of stairs, shouts from the kitchen below echoed up to them.

It sounded as though Mr. Weasley had finally gotten around to telling Mrs. Weasley about the toffees.

* * *

The room at the top of the house where Ron slept looked much as it had the last time that Harry had come to stay. The same posters of Ron's favorite Quidditch team, the Chudley Cannons, were whirling and waving on the walls and sloping ceiling, and the fish tank on the windowsill, which had previously held frog spawn, now contained one extremely large frog. Ron's old rat, Scabbers, was here no more, and for that Harry was glad. He had to hide his scowl from Hermione's view. Peter Pettigrew was just one of the people in list Yoda and Hermione would be very disappointed in Harry about if they found out what he wanted to do to them.

"Have you had a good summer, Harry?" Hermione asked after they settled into the room, "Did you get our food parcels and everything?"

"Yes, and thank you two for sending them. They were life-saving." Harry said with a smile.

"You've been talking different, Harry." Ron blurted out, and Harry blinked. He hadn't noticed.

"Oh honestly, Ron," Hermione rolled her eyes, "Just because some of us decide to actually use our words instead of gargling through the Queen's English doesn't mean anything." However, Hermione did glance up at Harry, "But he's right. You've also been… I don't know, more comfortable. Like you're calmer now. Your shoulders are relaxed and you've been smiling more. It's like there's this new sort of confidence to you."

"They're right. You're definitely a whole lot more comfortable in your own skin than I've ever seen you be," Ginny offered as she too watched Harry. He stood loosely, without bravado, taking a measure of the room whiling avoiding their eyes expertly. To Ginny, even with her young eyes, she could see him as he truly was; well into the path of becoming a man now. Wiser, like a man. Older, more from loss than from years.

Loss of illusions, loss of dependency. Loss of sleep, to stress. Loss of laughter.

But also gain, she saw without knowing it. The greatest was that which came from knowledge, and from the deep recognition that she saw only in one other person: Luna Lovegood. Luna often said that her look came from never being able to un-know what she knew. Now Harry had the same look, one that said there were so many things he wished he'd never learned. Harry had aged, indeed, Ginny recognized. He had aged with the weight of this knowledge.

Hermione too saw all of this, but more keenly recognized how knowledge brought benefits, of course. Harry was less anxious now, perhaps even less impulsive. The intermediate stages of Manhood had given him perspective, a framework in which to fit the events of his life. That was to say, a lattice of spatial and time coordinates spanning his existence. She wasn't at all sure how she knew, but she was certain that this shading gave a depth to his personality, where before it had been thin, without dimension. Though such a suggestion probably would have come from more jaded critics, reflecting a more jaded time. Nonetheless, there was a certain darkness, now. There were other advantages to knowledge, this Hermione knew well. The advantages of rationality, etiquette, choice.

Ron gazed at Harry, peering his longtime friend with a concentration he was not often known to possess. Harry seemed to carry himself a lot like Charlie and Bill. Like he had found his niche in the world at last after searching high and low for it. Harry's body language told Ron the story of someone who was now skilled in their craft after many long hours of practice. Harry, much like Ron, was more aware now, like he knew what the more desirable attributes were truly, and knew as well as anyone that all things alive had to grow. Still, in the margins of all this new confidence and personality, Harry still carried that certain degree of self that he was known for. It made Ron sure that his friend was still the same old Harry, just with new experiences to tell whenever he was ready to share them.

Ron went pink around the ears for staring at Harry like he was. He hastily changed the subject, "Anyway, have you heard from—?" he began, but another look from Hermione made him fall silent.

Harry knew Ron had been about to ask about Sirius. Ron and Hermione had been so deeply involved in helping Sirius escape from the Ministry of Magic last year that they were almost as concerned about Harry's godfather as he was. However, discussing him in front of Ginny was still a bad idea. No one but they and Professor Dumbledore knew about how Sirius had escaped, or believed in his innocence. As much as Harry liked Ginny, he knew that she simply had to be kept in the dark about some things for her own good.

"I think they've stopped arguing," Hermione announced to cover the awkward moment, because Ginny was looking curiously from Ron to Harry, "Shall we go down and help your mum with dinner?"

"Yeah, all right then," Ron deflected, following Hermione out the door and back down the stairs.

* * *

The four of them left Ron's room and went back downstairs to find Mrs. Weasley alone in the kitchen, looking extremely bad-tempered.

"We're eating out in the garden," she said when they came in, "There's just not room for eleven people in here. Could you take the plates outside, girls? Bill and Charlie are setting up the tables. Knives and forks, please, you two," she said to Ron and Harry, pointing her wand a little more vigorously than she had intended at a pile of potatoes in the sink, which shot out of their skins so fast that they ricocheted off the walls and ceiling. "Oh for heaven's sake," she snapped, now directing her wand at a dustpan, which hopped off the sideboard and started skating across the floor, scooping up the potatoes.

"Those two!" she burst out savagely, now pulling pots and pans out of a cupboard, and Harry knew she meant Fred and George, "I don't know what's going to happen to them, I really don't. No ambition, unless you count making as much trouble as they possibly can…"

Mrs. Weasley slammed a large copper saucepan down on the kitchen table and began to wave her wand around inside it. A creamy sauce poured from the wand tip as she stirred.

"It's not as though they haven't got brains," she continued irritably, taking the saucepan over to the stove and lighting it with a further poke of her wand, "but they're wasting them, and unless they pull themselves together soon, they'll be in real trouble. I've had more owls from Hogwarts about them than the rest put together. If they carry on the way they're going, they'll end up in front of the Improper Use of Magic Office."

Mrs. Weasley jabbed her wand at the cutlery drawer, which shot open. Ron jumped out of the way as several knives soared out of the drawer. Harry stepped aside as he watched the knives fly across the kitchen before they began chopping the potatoes, which had just been tipped back into the sink by the dustpan.

"I don't know where we went wrong with them," the Weasley matriarch breathed, putting down her wand and starting to pull out more saucepans. "It's been the same for years, one thing after another, and they won't listen to—" she had picked up her wand from the table, and it had emitted a loud squeak and turned into a giant rubber mouse, "OH NOT AGAIN!"

"ONE OF THEIR FAKE WANDS AGAIN!" the plump woman shouted, throwing the fake wand across the room where it clattered to the floor, "How many times have I told them not to leave them lying around?!" she grabbed her real wand and turned around to find that the sauce on the stove was smoking.

"C'mon," Ron said hurriedly to Harry, seizing a handful of cutlery from the open drawer, "let's go help Bill and Charlie."

They left Mrs. Weasley and headed out the backdoor into the yard. Outside a very loud crashing noise was coming from the other side of the house. The source of the commotion was revealed as they entered the garden, and saw that Bill and Charlie both had their wands out, and were making two battered old tables fly high above the lawn, smashing into each other, each attempting to knock the other's table out of the air. Fred and George were cheering, Ginny was laughing, and Hermione was hovering near the hedge, apparently torn between amusement and anxiety.

Bill's table caught Charlie's with a huge bang and knocked one of its legs off. There was a clatter from overhead, and they all looked up to see Percy's head poking out of a window on the second floor, yelling for them to keep the racket down. Bill made a smart remark from working brother to working brother, but that only appeared to upset Percy more as he slammed the window shut. Chuckling, Bill and Charlie directed the tables safely onto the grass, end to end, and then, with a flick of his wand, Bill reattached the table leg and conjured tablecloths from nowhere.

By seven o'clock, the two tables were groaning under dishes and dishes of Mrs. Weasley's excellent cooking, and the nine Weasleys, Harry, and Hermione were settling themselves down to eat beneath a clear, deep-blue sky. To Harry, who had been living on meals of whatever was left of his cooking and increasingly stale cake all summer, this was paradise. The Dursleys had placed him, too, on a diet with Dudley. They thought he could stand to lose a few pounds, and even Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia were going without.

Well, Harry knew his dear uncle was sneaking in crumpets and teacakes on his way to and from work at any rate.

Harry listened rather than talked as he helped himself to chicken and ham pie, boiled potatoes, and salad. At the far end of the table, Percy was telling his father all about his report on cauldron bottoms. Apparently a man named Ludo Bagman had gifted Mr. Weasley with the Quidditch World Cup tickets in good spirit from a favor that was done for his brother, some man named Otto who had gotten into trouble. Percy was also hinting at some top secret business he was involved with, but no one was taking the bait only to have Percy flounder and flail with his pompous attitude.

In another conversation, Mrs. Weasley was trying to get her son Bill to forgo his long hair and earring for a more professional appearance. Fred, George, and Charlie were chatting about the World Cup. The match was Bulgaria against Ireland, and it seemed the brothers were split on who was favored to win.

"It's got to be Ireland," Charlie said thickly through a mouthful of potatoes, "They flattened Peru in the semifinals."

"Bulgaria has got Viktor Krum, though," Fred countered spiritedly.

"Krum's _one_ decent player, Ireland has got _seven_ ," Charlie replied shortly, settling back in his chair with a resigned sigh, "I wish England had got through, though. That was embarrassing, that was."

"What happened?" Harry asked over the rim of his cup.

"Went down to Transylvania, three hundred and ninety to ten," Charlie sulked gloomily, "Shocking performance. And Wales lost to Uganda, and Scotland was slaughtered by Luxembourg."

"Sounds like a right shame, that," Harry murmured while sitting down his drink.

Mr. Weasley conjured up candles to light the darkening garden before they had homemade strawberry ice cream for dessert. By the time they had finished, moths were fluttering low over the table, and the warm air was perfumed with the smells of grass and honeysuckle. Harry was feeling extremely well fed and at peace. The Force sung in gentle waves of content as he watched several gnomes sprinting through the rosebushes, laughing madly and closely pursued by Crookshanks, Hermione's feline familiar.

Ron looked carefully up the table to check that the rest of the family were all busy talking, then he said very quietly to Harry, "So, what have you been up to lately, Harry? Did you do anything with the Muggles?"

"Yeah," Harry smiled as he began to tell his two best friends all about Yoda and the training had had undergone. Ron looked absolutely excited at the thought of leaping over ponds, but Hermione's face was drawn up into an expression of concern while her eyes darted around, listening closely.

"Yoda is a nice guy," he carried on, watching the expressions of his two best friends, "He's kind and full of wisdom. He reminds me of a mix between Professor Flitwick and Professor Dumbledore, but somehow even better. He's teaching me everything he knows about being a Jedi, and it just feels _right_. All the stuff I'm learning from him, I soak it up like a sponge! I don't get the feeling I get with him learning Jedi things unless I'm flying or back in Professor Lupin's classroom. _It just feels right_!"

"Harry…" Hermione had a curious and beaming expression on her face. She placed a hand on his lap, "You're rambling, Harry."

"I know," and he did. He even felt his cheeks heat up, but he couldn't possibly help it. He wanted his friends to know the joy he experience learning the Force and how to become a Jedi. He wanted them to see the world as he now saw it. To feel the ever present sways of energy that relaxed him even now like he was floating in a never ending pool of crystal-clear waters.

Yoda tested Harry to mental and physical extremes one moment and showed warmth the next. True, at first Harry had disagreed with the elfin Jedi Master, but now he was gradually coming to understand Yoda's attitudes. To Harry, Yoda was a sage instructor, a man humbled and enlightened to the world around him.

"Well this Yoda bloke sounds great," Ron began while rubbing anxiously at his trousers, "Do you reckon he'd be willin' to teach us magic, too?"

"It's not magic, per say," Harry shook his head, "It's different. Its from outside of you. Magic, from what I feel, comes from inside a person. The Force is like water, flowing all around us, but it also flows through us. Binds us together. I can feel the connections between you and me, the grass and the trees. Your family and Hermione. Everything."

"I have to say I'm more than a little bit jealous, Harry," Hermione said, in a voice that let Harry know she'd be ordering every book and tomes on the topic of the Force and Jedi within a matter of hours, "It's very hard to find someone willing to instruct you on any branch of magic outside a school system. Even parents normally don't teach their children any more once they reach the age to attend institutions like Hogwarts."

"And not only have you found someone teaching you cool stuff," Ron was grinning, "But he's doing it for free! Private tutors, magic or not, are usually expensive. Percy hired one to teach him some kind of muggle studies over the summer, and had to save up to it for a couple of years!"

"Well, he lives in the woods outside Little Whinging, and is a bit of a hermit." Harry pointed out.

"Not surprising though," Ron said, "Some wizards don't like the new muggle colonies, but also don't wanna move away. They can live in tents and huts for a long time."

"Yeah, he lives in a hut." Harry nodded. "I think he's been there for years now."

"Most likely," Hermione concurred with her own nod.

"You said he was teaching you the Force and to be a Jedi." Ron spoke up after a hesitant moment, "But I don't think I've ever heard of a Jedi before. What is it? Some kinda Auror?"

"Its like a wizard from what Yoda keeps trying to tell me." Harry explained with a careless shrug, "He says stuff like, " _The Jedi Knights, guardians of peace and justice they were. For over a thousand generations, protected the Old Republic they did_." I don't exactly know what republic he hails from, or where, but what I'm learning seems pretty universal. I mean, he speaks the Queen's English well enough most times. Other times he just gargles it."

"Sounds like someone we know," Hermione giggled, glancing at Ron, who blinked owlishly.

"Who?" The look Harry and Hermione shot him apparently didn't help him understand any better, so Harry changed the subject back to the Jedi Knights.

"There are three stages to the Jedi apparently. There is the Learner, which I am right now. The Knight, which I'll be once I finish my training with Yoda. And the Master, which Yoda and some guy called Obi-Wan Kenobi are. In fact, Yoda called himself the former Grandmaster of the Jedi Order."

"Again, Harry, I can't tell you how jealous I am." Hermione butted in with a small glare thrown his way for added measure, "I mean, _really_! To have a tutor is one thing, but for it to be the ex-headmaster of a former institution is quite another! To think you get to actually work with a master of an obscure branch of magic I've never even heard of while I'm trapped at home reading next semester's books…! It is _maddening_!"

"Yeah, well…" Harry took a deep breath, "Don't get me wrong. It was a lot of hard work over the summer. But I met Yoda and learned some really amazing things about myself and the Force. I can run and jump better than an athlete. I can use the Force without a wand, too."

"Now you've GOTTA have Yoda teach us, Harry!" Ron exclaimed, but was shushed when the other members of the Weasley family looked their way from where they were talking over the remains of a delicious supper. After they looked away and returned to their own conversations without a fuss, Ron lowered his volume, "Wandless magic is really rare and hard to learn for those who _can_ learn it. They don't even teach stuff that advanced at Hogwarts! Yoda has to teach us, Harry! He's just gotta, mate!"

Then a look over came Ron as though a light bulb had lit atop his head, "Or better yet; _you_ can teach us, Harry! You learned loads from that Yoda person. I'm sure you could start showing us just enough so that after the school year, Yoda will be impressed. He'll be proud of you teaching us, and us for learning so good. That'll show him how much you've learned and how well it stuck."

It sounded ridiculous. Harry stared at Ron for a long pause until he turned to Hermione, ready to exchange the exasperated looks they sometimes shared when Ron got a really bad idea into his head about terrorizing Malfoy and the Slytherins. But to Harry's consternation, however, Hermione did not look exasperated at all. She was frowning slightly, apparently thinking. Then she said, "That's actually not too bad an idea, Ronald."

"Wh-What?" Harry sputtered.

"You," Ron added again eagerly, now going full force with his idea since Hermione was on-board, "teaching us to use this Force-stuff."

"But…" Harry was grinning now, sure the pair of them were pulling his leg. "But I'm not a teacher, I can't—"

"Harry, you're the best in the year at Defense Against the Dark Arts," Hermione said, waving her hand between them, "Sure I test better than you, but I'm not talking about test results."

Harry could not think of anything to say. Clearly his friends wanted to learn. Yet, was it his place to teach them anything? Yoda had only taught him after consulting with the Force and the ghost of Qui-Gon Jinn, a man Harry learned was also once a student of Yoda.

Perhaps he would need to do the same?

After a few moments passed in silence as Harry considered everything, he nodded, hardly aware of what he was agreeing to. "I'll need some time to think about it, but I'm sure Yoda wouldn't really mind me practicing with you guys. I talked about you with him, and he never gave any sign that I _couldn't_ share what I learned. At least not with people I _trust_ , at any rate…"

Hermione shot a pleased look up at Harry.

"Well, I'm glad you'll at least consider it," she said in a voice that was clearly as natural as she could make it. Harry, however, felt her certainty through the Force. To her, one way or another, she would be learning more about the subject. "I expect to see all your notes on the Force and the Jedi tomorrow morning."

"Umm… I don't have any…" Harry shrugged, then at her horrified look, he quickly tacked on, "But maybe you can make some while learning. It would be better if you took the notes down, anyway. You're much better at written aspects than me and Ron by kilometers."

"Hmm, true," she grinned and then started to converse animatedly with Ginny over an article they had read in Witch Weekly.

Ron had gotten to his feet.

"Coming with me up to the room?" he said awkwardly to Harry after a pause. Harry could feel the waves of excitement rolling off his best friend. Ron really wanted to learn what he considered wandless magic. Harry didn't understand why, but was glad he knew something that Ron was interested in and that he could share with his friend.

"Yeah," said Harry. "In… in a minute. I'll sit here and think for a moment."

Ron nodded and left for the inside of the house.

"Look at the time," Mrs. Weasley said suddenly, checking her wristwatch. "You really should be in bed, the whole lot of you. You'll be up at the crack of dawn to get to the Cup. Harry, if you leave your school list out, I'll get your things for you tomorrow in Diagon Alley. I'm getting everyone else's. There might not be time after the World Cup, the match went on for five days last time."

Again Harry had to blink in surprise, "Amazing! I hope it does this time as well!" he said with much enthusiasm. Harry liked Quidditch. He had been on the Gryffindor House Quidditch team ever since his first year at Hogwarts and owned one of the best racing brooms in the world, a Firebolt. Flying came more naturally to Harry than anything else in the magical world, and he played in the position of Seeker on the Gryffindor House team.

"Well, I certainly don't," Percy spat sanctimoniously, "I shudder to think what the state of my in-tray would be if I was away from work for five days."

"Yeah, someone might slip dragon dung in it again, eh, Perce?" Fred laughed with George doing the same, the two leaning on each other while Percy went very red in the face.

"That was a sample of fertilizer from Norway!" Percy said, scandalized and affronted, "It was nothing personal!"

"It was," Fred whispered to Harry as they got up from the table, "We sent it."

"You really shouldn't antagonize him," Harry heard Hermione admonish the twin brothers, but couldn't help his smile from forming. It was a harmless prank, but if Percy ever learned it was Fred and George behind it, their actions could dissolve the already diminishing relationship. The Force was awarding Harry a glance into the strength of the family's ties, and all those surrounding Percy were wearing thin. "He's your, and you should support him. If he wants to find leaking cauldrons interesting, more power to him because someone has to and it sure isn't going to be me or either of you."

Fred and George exchanged a look, but remained silent. They had never thought about it that way, the same as they never thought about trash-men or milkmen.

Hermione blew out a long exasperated breath.

"How long have you been waiting for the perfect opportunity to give that lecture?" Harry asked before Hermione shot him a look.

"Long enough, Harry James Potter. And if you aren't careful, you'll get a lecture about taking the wind out of my sails." she warned.


	5. Forcing the Issue

**Chapter 5: Forcing the Issue**

* * *

Harry had slept very well that night. He did not dream, but it was welcome after so many nights of normally running himself ragged with Yoda in training. Harry felt as though he had barely laid down when he was being shaken awake by Mrs. Weasley.

"Time to go, Harry, dear," she whispered, moving away to wake Ron.

Harry felt around for his glasses, put them on, and sat up. It was still dark outside. Ron muttered indistinctly as his mother roused him. At the foot of Harry's mattress he saw two large, disheveled shapes emerging from tangles of blankets.

"It's time already?" said Fred groggily.

They dressed in silence, too sleepy to talk, then, yawning and stretching, the four of them headed downstairs into the kitchen. Mrs. Weasley was stirring the contents of a large pot on the stove, while Mr. Weasley was sitting at the table, checking a sheaf of large parchment tickets. He looked up as the boys entered and spread his arms so that they could see his clothes more clearly. He was wearing what appeared to be a golfing sweater and a very old pair of jeans, slightly too big for him and held up with a thick leather belt.

"What d'you think?" he asked anxiously. "We're supposed to go incognito. So, do I look like a Muggle, Harry?"

"Yeah," Harry replied, smiling while he crossed his arms, "very good. But you may want to resize the pants a little to fit you better."

"Good idea," Mr. Weasley said before taking up his wand and pointing it funnily at his pants while muttering to himself. Before his eyes, Harry saw the pants shrink as though they had been in the wash. It was such a simple thing, but even still magic amazed Harry. Not in the same way as the Force amazed him, but equally as good. Different, yet all still wonderful and exhilarating.

"Where're Bill and Charlie and Per-Per-Percy?" George asked, failing to stifle a huge yawn.

"Well, they're Apparating, aren't they?" Mrs. Weasley said as she heaved the large pot over to the table and starting to ladle porridge into bowls. "So they can have a bit of a lie-in." Harry knew that Apparating meant disappearing from one place and reappearing almost instantly in another, but had never known any Hogwarts student to do it, and understood that it was very difficult.

"So they're still in bed?" Fred grumbled, pulling his bowl of porridge toward himself. "Why can't we Apparate too?"

"Because you're not of age and you haven't passed your test!" his mother snapped before jerking her head toward the kitchen ceiling. "And where have those girls got to?" She bustled out of the kitchen and they heard her climbing the stairs.

Harry turned to Mr. Weasley just as he was tucking a slew of tickets safely into the back pocket of his jeans.

"I didn't know there was a test to Apparate." He said before Mr. Weasley nodded.

"Oh yes, the Department of Magical Transportation had to fine a couple of people the other day for Apparating without a license. It's not easy, Apparition, and when it's not done properly it can lead to nasty complications. This pair I'm talking about went and splinched themselves." Everyone around the table except Harry winced. Their sudden influx of apprehension made Harry pause for a moment.

"Er — splinched?" Harry asked after the Force around him had settled back to a normal rhythm.

"They left half of themselves behind," Mr. Weasley sighed, now spooning large amounts of treacle onto his porridge. "So, of course, they were stuck. Couldn't move either way. Had to wait for the Accidental Magic Reversal Squad to sort them out. Meant a fair bit of paperwork, I can tell you, what with the Muggles who spotted the body parts they'd left behind…"

Harry had a sudden vision of a pair of legs and an eyeball lying abandoned on the pavement of Privet Drive. "Were they okay?" he asked, now understanding why everyone else had felt so startled.

"Oh yes," Mr. Weasley stated matter-of-factly, his tone reminding Harry slightly of Percy. "But they got a heavy fine, and I don't think they'll be trying it again in a hurry. You don't mess around with Apparition. There are plenty of adult wizards who don't bother with it. Prefer brooms — slower, but safer."

"Charlie had to take the test twice," Fred broke in, grinning at Harry. "He failed the first time because he Apparated five miles south of where he meant to, right on top of some poor old woman doing her shopping."

"Yes, well, he passed the second time," Mrs. Weasley was now back, marching into the kitchen amid hearty sniggers.

"Percy only passed two weeks ago," said George. "He's been Apparating downstairs every morning since, just to prove he can."

Harry was about to comment, but then a sharpness of worldly clarity crossed his mind when his eyes landed on George. It was like watching a sunrise for the first time, or an imminent car crash in slow motion. "Your pockets."

"Hmm?" George blinked, and so did Harry, who did not understand why he was talking about pockets when the Force had somehow splintered off from its natural flow. It was like a warning, because the feeling was similar to what he had felt when Uncle Vernon had gotten the Weasleys letter from the mailman, but it was also different because Harry had never felt the Force crack the way it was now. It made him nervous and uncertain, but something in the Force was pushing him to talk about George's pockets… or rather, whatever they contained.

"You pockets. Something… off… I don't know," Harry shook his head. The crack in the Force was widening or closing with his every word. This was both exhilarating and frightening, "Just check your pockets. I have a bad feeling about this…"

"A bad feeling about this, I'll say!" Fred spat out sharply, jabbing his twin in the ribs. "Your hubris is showing!"

"Oh dear," George gasped, and stood for a moment as he stuffed several small, brightly colored objects back down deep into his pocket. As soon as he did, Harry felt the crack in the Force vanish and the flow of its energies return to normal. He had no idea what the sensation could mean, but at least now he understand that it could only be fixed by addressing the problem and solving it.

Fred and George were whispering furiously to one another before footsteps were heard down the passageway. Hermione and Ginny came into the kitchen, both looking pale and drowsy.

"Why do we have to be up so early?" Ginny mumbled, rubbing her eyes and sitting down at the table.

"We've got a bit of a walk after everyone has breakfast and is ready," Mr. Weasley explained while glancing over the paper.

"Walk?" Harry echoed, "What, are we walking to the World Cup?"

"No, no, that's miles away," Mr. Weasley said, smiling. "We only need to walk a short way. It's just that it's very difficult for a large number of wizards to congregate without attracting Muggle attention. We have to be very careful about how we travel at the best of times, and on a huge occasion like the Quidditch World Cup its gets even more complex."

Harry nodded as he could understand just how much of a stir it would cause if witches and wizards from around the world suddenly came to Privet Drive while flying broomsticks and magic carpets. His relatives would be the first on the phone, ringing the police about the strangeness needing to be investigated. He could just imagine his aunt's long nose pressed against the window, watching the brooms sail overhead while his uncle's mustache blared incoherently at the officer over the phone.

Turning to Hermione, Harry was mildly surprised when she didn't immediately make mention of him introducing her and Ron to the ways of the Force for a twenty minutes into breakfast. And even then it seemed she did it more for Ron's sake. He kept unsubtlety glancing between them with a feverish eye until the subject was broached again over a second serving of porridge when the twins and Ginny left the table to double check their packing. Mr. Weasley was helping his wife with something in the living room at the moment, and the other Weasley children had still not come down for any sort of breakfast.

"I was wondering," Hermione said suddenly, throwing Ron a pinched look, "whether you had thought any more about the idea Ron had about you teaching us."

Harry did not answer at once. He pretended to be perusing a message in the syrup patterns of his French toast.

The fact was that he had given the matter a great deal of thought over the past night. At first it had seemed a little insane, but he had found himself thinking about the little things that had served him best in his training with Yoda. Little hints and tips he could pass on to them to make their various encounters with the Force smoother.

However, the biggest part of it was his trying to make contact with the Force on this decision. Or rather, more specifically, his contact with the spirit of Qui-Gon Jinn, the man who had championed his own training to Yoda. There had been a stir in the Force, a warm breath here and a whisper of nonsense there, but nothing concrete. Harry took it to mean that his decision was his own to make, and that the Force would later decide if it was for good or ill fate.

"Well," he said slowly, when he could not pretend to find his breakfast interesting much longer, "yeah, I've thought about it a bit."

"Annnd?" Ron asked eagerly, leaning forward over the table.

"I dunno," he muttered, playing for time. He looked up at Hermione.

"Well, what do you think? Will you teach us?"

Harry shifted uncomfortably in his chair.

Hermione shook her head exasperatedly and, ignoring Ron, who was quickly growing restless with anticipation, placed a hand on the table while staring Harry in the eye.

"Now, don't fly off the handle, Harry, but I really think we ought to try. It would be good for us. I mean, we're talking about advanced applications into magic and not to mention the physical stuff you said this Jedi Master Yoda got you to learn. Standing on a hand is one thing, Harry, but on a _thumb_? That sort of athleticism is bound to be excellent for good health! Not to mention all the ways it could be applied toward your Quidditch games."

Harry considered this for a moment. It was true. He had never thought about the advantages his Force training could bring to his natural Quidditch skills. And there was just no telling what else his hard work could afford him if he had Hermione and Ron's perspectives to add in on the examination.

"Alright then," Harry said at last, bringing smiles to his friends' faces as they both released a sigh of relief, "but you have to do _exactly_ what I say. No complaining. No gripping. No quitting. Training in the ways of the Force is rough and rigorous at best, and looks almost impossible at the worst of times."

"We can handle it." Ron said, trying to sound confident, "We'll be more than ready if you could take it from that Yoda bloke and come back so… so… _strong_. Don't get me wrong, Harry, you've always been amazing, but now it's like a shine to you. You're no longer that short and skinny Firstie. You're as tall as me and you've got muscles! Me and 'Mione are ready if you're willing to teach us."

"Ready are you, hmm?" Harry said, imitating Yoda as best he could. He even took his spoon and poked Ron a few times just for the amusement while they watched him with bewildered looks. "What know you of ready? Trained Jedi for eight hundred years, Yoda has. His own counsel he will keep on who is to be trained. And do the same, will I."

Hermione and Ron stared at him, and he felt that he was becoming more serious as he went on. It was as if a part of Yoda's wisdom had been handed down to him in more than just training; in mindset as well.

"To become a Jedi," he began gravely, putting down the spoon and speaking normally again instead of the gurgle Yoda talked in, "it takes a fountain of strength. The deepest commitment. The most serious mind. It's not just running and jumping, or mediating and doing things with the Force. The whole process of becoming a Jedi is largely more about opening yourself to something more intimidate than anything you've ever experienced. The Force is like magic, yes, but you can feel it around you all the time. Magic rises and falls, but the Force is like constantly swimming in a pond. Still waters, but they run so deep…"

His two friends exchanged a look, but Harry wasn't finished. He looked at his friends, seeing them in ways they would come to understand as he felt their existence in the Force. They flinched back, thinking how he seemed to look right through them. Their feelings were as open to him as any book.

"We wouldn't fail you, Harry." Hermione said, "We are not afraid." And, indeed, at that moment, Harry felt that both she and Ron believed they could face anything he put them through without fear.

However, for their own sakes, he wouldn't give rise to such naïve optimism. For weeks Yoda had put him through the gauntlet. Could Ron and Hermione weather those weeks like he did?

"You will be, Hermione," he warned her, and Ron by extension. He turned slowly to face her and Ron again, looking at them with a strange little smile on his fresh face. "Heh. You will be…"

* * *

All in all, the atmosphere was very lively as they took their departure from the Burrow to begin their journey. Mrs. Weasley kissed Mr. Weasley on the cheek, "Well, have a lovely time," she said with a sigh, "and behave yourselves," she told the twins as they each grinned and kissed her cheek like Ron, Hermione, Harry, and Ginny did as they left with many farewells and promises of souvenirs. The twins were still grinning as they each hoisted their rucksacks onto their backs and walked out.

"I'll send Bill, Charlie, and Percy along around midday," Mrs. Weasley said to Mr. Weasley, as he, Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny set off across the dark yard after Fred and George, who were moving at a brisk pace.

It was chilly and the moon was still out. Only a dull, greenish tinge along the horizon to their right showed that daybreak was drawing closer. Harry, having been thinking about thousands of wizards speeding toward the Quidditch World Cup, sped up to walk with Ron and Hermione as Ginny followed.

They had only gone a few paces when Crookshanks came pelting out of the garden, bottle-brush tail held high in the air, chasing a gnome clear across the yard. Barely ten inches high, its horny little feet pattered very fast as it sprinted across the yard and dived headlong into one of the Wellington boots that lay scattered around the door. Harry could hear the gnome giggling madly as Crookshanks inserted a paw into the boot, trying to reach it.

Crookshanks looked up at the four teenagers and meowed demandingly.

"Don't look at me," Ron snorted, "You trapped it in there. It's your job to get it out. Besides what makes you think I could catch it?"

Crookshanks meowed again, but turned back to the boot and the gnome with renewed vigor.

"You and Crookshanks are getting on then finally," Harry said with amusement clear in his tone.

Ron's ears turned pink. Hermione and Ginny giggled to one another.

"C'mon, let's go catch up before they send back a search party…"

"Psst — Harry!"

Harry looked up, halfway along the yard, to see Fred and George peering back at him from where they stood by a decaying fence line.

"We simply have to thank you for helping us remember ourselves back at breakfast," Fred said with a wink.

"So, as a token of our appreciation, here."

Several small, brightly colored objects zoomed out of George's pocket. The two heaved two great handfuls of toffees each into Harry's arms, pulling the trick candies from all sorts of unlikely places, including the lining of George's jacket and the turn-ups of Fred's jeans.

George beamed at Harry, patting him on the head even though they were roughly the same height now.

"Early Christmas present for you, Harry," he said.

"And there's more yet to where those come from," Fred whispered secretly. Hermione, Ron, and Ginny were catching up now along with Mr. Weasley. "You see, we need a good man like you in on the business to keep us… let's say, clean."

Fred pulled something from inside his jacket with a flourish and held it out. It was a parchment piece that had ' _Wealseys Wizarding Wheezes_ ' written on it in bold strokes. Harry, suspecting one of Fred and George's jokes, stared at it.

"So you've really gone into business, then?" Harry said, folding his arms in a contemplative gesture.

"Yes, much very so." George said oddly, patting the parchment fondly. It was their first business sign, after all.

"This, Harry, is the start of something great," Fred said, then grinned at Harry, "Something we want _you_ to be a part of."

"Why?" Harry asked with an eyebrow cocked.

"Because you saved us six months of hard work back there!"

"And before you say anymore, we do know our mother very well."

"Yes. She would have swished her wand this way and that to be sure she got every last one of our little surprises here."

"Besides, who's to say this will be the last time you save our bacon?"

"Yeah! In fact, we're counting on you doing it again in the future to come!"

"Except on purpose." Fred ended, smirking like the devil in the details.

Harry snorted. "You're winding me up," he said, looking at the toffees in his hands before stuffing them into his knapsack.

"Oh, are we?" George was now the one smirking before he flipped the old square parchment on its back, to where the owners were listed as himself and Fred. Then he scrawled 'Harry Potter' in under them and Harry was left goggling.

"Close your mouth, love," Fred crowed with a smirk, "Your innocence will, like honey, attract more than flies here."

"You can't be serious…" Harry muttered, beside himself. The toffees were enough, but for them to actually make him a partner in their joke business. That was going too far to show gratitude!

"Oh yes, we are _dead serious_." Fred said, and Harry felt strange at the emphasis on those last words, "If there is one person we and the public can trust, it'll be Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived. You save our fledging business from the ruthless dream-crusher known as Mommy Dearest, and when people see your name attached to our jokes, they'll know we're on the up and up.

"Right," Harry said briskly.

"Good!" George clapped his hands together once and smiled, "Also, be sure to study the Shrinking Charm written inside the wrapper for the toffees. That is, if you don't want your intended victim— I mean _friendly target_ — to wait the whole five minutes for their tongue to go back to normal."

"Or just leave them to suffer," Fred said casually with a shrug.

"I feel like I should tell you that letting others suffer is a bad thing," Harry sighed, but gave up all the same.

"Well, if it helps you sleep at night and all…" Fred turned away from Harry and George did the same, "Now then, young Mr. Potter, you mind your manners."

The twins began to walk away, using the same brisk pace they had before to stay ahead of the others.

George winked back at Harry, "And be sure to tell us all about your first victim."

The two departed from Harry, both smirking in a satisfied sort of way.

Harry stood there, gazing at their retreating forms with something close to exasperation. He wondered if he'd ever really use any of the Ton-Tongue Toffees they gave him, but figured he wouldn't in any case.

Well, at least until Malfoy came around to bother him… No, Harry shook his head, it wouldn't be right to harm Malfoy like that even for a prank. Well, maybe…

* * *

"Harry James Potter, don't you dare move an inch." Hermione's voice was sharp behind him as she, Ron, and Ginny stood directly in back of him while Mr. Weasley kept going.

"Sorry, Harry, you're on your own with this one." the older man said with a small smile and a pat on Harry's shoulder.

Harry turned around to face Hermione, who looked absolutely cross.

"Mrs. Weasley specifically told Fred and George to destroy those horrid sweets!" the bushy-haired girl spat furiously, holding up a finger which was pointed under Harry's chin. "She said for them to get rid of the lot!"

"I wasn't there for that conversation," Harry drawled, knowing exactly how worked up Hermione could get behind rule breaking.

"Then let me fill you in, because it was a rather unpleasant scene," Hermione whispered, now stepping into Harry's personal space, "the twins had to turn over a load of candies to her, and then she used a Summoning Charm to weed out the rest. But they obviously were a step ahead of even magically thoroughness."

"Well, they are very smart. Like you, but in a different way," Harry smiled, turning on heel so they could keep moving. "They spent six months developing their joke stuff. I can only think about what sort of stores they may still have in hiding."

"Oh a fine way to spend six months!" Hermione shrieked, then folded her around over her budding chest, "No wonder they didn't get more O.W.L.s like their mother wanted!"

"This isn't going to be another crusade episode like the whole Firebolt fiasco again from last year, is it, Hermione?" Harry sounded bored, because really Hermione was the only person that could make him defend pranksters like Fred and George. "I mean, yes, they have a bit of a shocking streak to them, but their jokes are pretty much only petty and harmless. It's all in a bit of fun, right?"

"Fun? FUN!" Hermione looked ready to explode as she sped up and stopped Harry dead in his tracks, poking at his chest, "It's not all fun and games, Harry Potter. And I don't care if it is harmless! That's not the point! What they're doing is insulting and embarrassing. They don't care what people think of them. They're irresponsible and deliberately bullying!"

"And who isn't at our age!?" Harry realized he was yelling now, too. He brushed Hermione aside as he focused on the Force to regain his calm. Only his best friends could get under his skin with things like this. Only Hermione could make him play defense attorney for Fred and George. "For Christ's sake, they'll grow out of it. And when they open their joke shop, they'll have to ensure—"

"They should just do as their mother wants." Hermione muttered, probably realizing how emotional she, herself, was becoming on the subject. "Clean up their act, and go for respectable jobs in the Ministry."

"Not everyone wants to work for the government, Hermione." Harry groaned, shaking his head. Only Hermione could think that working under the rule-makers was the only option to people. "I don't want to work for the Ministry."

"Well what else is there?" she asked, and Harry knew she was serious.

"What about all those shops and places around the world that don't toll under the Ministry?" Harry said, and Hermione blinked, her cheeks flushing pink.

"You know what I meant, Harry…" she muttered, and he smirked back at her.

"I do, but even still the twins should be allowed to follow their own goals in life." Perhaps he was beginning to sound too old, too reasoned for even himself. True, the Force allotted him a clarity like no other into feelings and such, but the way he was speaking was as if he had raised children of his own.

Maybe the Dursleys had messed him up more mentally than even he knew…

"Well," Hermione turned up her nose. She simply couldn't see why anyone would want to make practical jokes and silliness when they could be helping to better society through lobbying and political action, "I think they're wasting the talent they have for Spell Creation and Charms. They could be curing magical ailments, or creating ways to refine and improve things that already exist."

"Maybe they'll do that later on in life." Ginny finally spoke up, rolling her eyes from where she walked at Hermione's side. On her other side, Ron trotted along with a small smirk. He simply couldn't be jealous of Harry when his bespectacled best friend bickered with Hermione like this. It was cute and hilarious. Like watching two smart siblings go at it through a chess match over the last of the chocolate frogs.

"It's not as though they haven't got the brains to do more," Hermione continued irritably, kicking at a gnome that ran past. It went sailing a good ten meters, "But they're wasting them and their talent with their petty ambitions. And unless they pull themselves together soon, they'll be in real trouble. If they carry on the way they're going, they'll end up in front of the Improper Use of Magic Office."

"That sounds like the ramblings of someone who is afraid to live out their own dreams," Harry cut across, "simply because they were different from the crowd."

Hermione pinned his back with a look, but there was no malice to it, "And you sound like an instigator for the determent of social norms."

"The mechanisms of big Ministry," Harry quipped.

"The delusions of a dreamer!" Hermione fired back.

"Do they always rapid fire like this?" Ginny asked her brother, who was smirking still.

"Only when Hermione stirs up a cause," Ron said, then pondered for a moment, "But usually I'm the one she has to contend with. This time, it's Harry. Who I have to say I'm surprised is defending the twins so much."

"Not really," Harry said, slowing down to walk beside Ron, "I'm only defending their natural-born right to live out their lives the way they want. No one should have their dreams stripped away from them if they have the will and passion to claw their way into making those dreams a reality."

"And I'm not attacking their dreams," Hermione quickly put forth, "Only the fact that their talent, drive, and tenacity could be better served elsewhere to further society's evolution."

Ron and Ginny shared a sibling look with identical rolls of their eyes.

"I'm gonna go catch up with Dad and the twins," Ginny said, smirking at the trio, "You guys have fun with all your philosophical spam." She ran away from them, quickly making to her father's side where the two shared a laugh about the three behind them.

* * *

"So, Harry," Ron broached, looking carefully up ahead at the others while he spoke, "Have you heard from Sirius lately?"

Hermione looked around, listening closely.

"Yeah," Harry sighed softly with a shrug of his shoulders, "A couple of times. He sounds okay. I wrote to him a few days ago to let him know I was gonna be with you guys. He might write back while I'm here, but I think it's more likely he'll wait until we get back to Hogwarts."

"Well, I'm sure he'll be just fine." Ron said, clapping Harry on the back, "After all, he's survived this long. If he's already been on the run for months without anyone discovering him, then he's bound to contact you again as soon as he's sure it's safe."

"Yes," Harry nodded his head, "yes, I'm sure you're right."

"I always am." Ron smirked.

"Except when you're wrong." Hermione smiled.

"Which is more often then we care for." Harry joined in, making Ron smack both of them lightly on the shoulders.

"Hmph, well I never…" Ron grumbled, but was smiling much like his friends.

"So how does everyone get to the Quidditch World Cup without any of the Muggles noticing?" Harry asked after a lull in their conversation.

"From what Mr. Weasley's been saying, it's a massive organizational problem," Hermione said while brushing back her hair.

"Right," Ron nodded, "The trouble as Dad figures it is how about a hundred thousand wizards turn up at the World Cup, and of course, no country has got a magical site big enough to fit them all. There are places Muggles can't penetrate, yeah, but imagine trying to pack a hundred thousand wizards into Diagon Alley or Platform Nine and Three-Quarters."

"So the solution is to find a nice deserted place, and set up as many precautions as possible." Harry reasoned, with Ron and Hermione nodding at his logic.

"The whole Ministry's been working on it for months." Hermione explained, making vague hand gestures as she went on. "First, of course, they have to cattle the arrivals. Like making the cheap seats come first and then the next wave about a week later.

"Yes, because wizards are coming from all over the world." Harry figured it would have been quite the sight to see witches and wizards packed on buses and trains with the Muggles staring at them like they were an alien species.

"Some Apparate, of course, but only to the already set up safe points for them to appear, well away from Muggles." Ron picked up, "For those who don't want to Apparate, or can't, they use Portkeys. Like we're about to use."

"Portkeys are objects that are used to transport wizards from one spot to another at a prearranged time. You can do large groups at a time if you need to. There have been two hundred Portkeys placed at strategic points around Britain, and the nearest one to us is up at the top of Stoatshead Hill, so that's where we're headed." Hermione pointed ahead of them, where a large black mass rose beyond the village of Ottery St. Catchpole.

"Interesting… Tell me, what sort of objects are Portkeys?" Harry asked curiously, stroking his chin.

"Well, they can be anything," Ron said with a grin, "Unobtrusive things, obviously, so Muggles don't go picking 'em up and playing with 'em. Mostly though they're bits of junk and litter. Stuff like mangy old automobile tires and broken umbrellas."

They trudged down the dark, dank lane toward the village, the silence broken only by their footsteps. The sky lightened very slowly as they made their way through the village, its inky blackness diluting to deepest blue. Harry's hands and feet were freezing. They finally caught up with the others, and Harry noticed the way Mr. Weasley kept checking his watch.

The others didn't have breath to spare for talking as they began to climb Stoatshead Hill. Harry had no problem getting up the incline, but he observed the way the others, especially Hermione and Ginny stumbled occasionally in hidden rabbit holes, or how Fred and George kept slipping on thick black tuffs of grass. Ron and Mr. Weasley were a little better than the others, with Ron nearly keeping pace with Harry while Mr. Weasley was not too far behind them, but Harry watched in amusement as each breath Ron took made his face all the more flushed.

It amazed him just how poor his shape was, and how poor the others were by comparison. If he had not been through the ringer by Yoda, then he would be in the same boat as the others instead of thinking of the hill climb as a refreshing bit of exercise. He would have been having that sharp pain in his chest, the one he only got now from doing Force-enhanced gymnastics on tree branches with Yoda on his back.

He was just about to offer them assistance when his feet found level ground. Ron came over the crest behind him, his hair beginning to stick to his forehead.

"Whew," Mr. Weasley panted, taking off his glasses and wiping them on his sweater. "Well, we've made good time. Still got a good ten minutes…"

Hermione came over the crest of the hill last, clutching a stitch in her side. Ginny came up leaning on George, who was leaning more heavily on Fred.

"Now we just need the Portkey," Mr. Weasley said, replacing his glasses and squinting around at the ground. "It won't be big… Come on."

They spread out, searching. They had only been at it for a couple of minutes, however, when a shout rent the still air. "Over here, Arthur! Over here, old boy, we've got it!"

Two tall figures were silhouetted against the starry sky on the other side of the hilltop.

"Amos!" Mr. Weasley barked, smiling as he strode over to the man who had shouted. The rest of them followed. Mr. Weasley was shaking hands with a ruddy-faced wizard with a scrubby brown beard, who was holding a moldy-looking old boot in his other hand.

"This is Amos Diggory, everyone," Mr. Weasley introduced, gesturing toward the other man. "He works for the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. And I think you know his son, Cedric?"

Cedric Diggory was an extremely handsome boy of around seventeen. He was Captain and Seeker of the Hufflepuff House Quidditch team at Hogwarts.

"Hi," Cedric said, looking around at them all. Everybody said hello back, except Fred and George, who merely nodded. They had never quite forgiven Cedric for beating their team, Gryffindor, in the first Quidditch match of the previous year.

"Long walk, Arthur?" Cedric's father asked.

"Not too bad," Mr. Weasley replied, collecting himself better under the watchful eye of Amos. "We live just on the other side of the village there. You?"

"Had to get up at two, didn't we, Ced? I tell you, I'll be glad when he's got his Apparition test. Still… not complaining at all. Quidditch World Cup, Arthur! Ha, wouldn't miss it for a sack full of Galleons — and the tickets cost about that. Mind you, looks like I got off easy….." Amos Diggory peered good-naturedly around at the three Weasley boys, Harry, Hermione, and Ginny. "All these yours, Arthur?"

"Oh no, only the redheads," Mr. Weasley said with a hand over his heart, the other pointing out his children. "This is Hermione, friend of Ron's — and Harry, another friend—"

"Merlin's beard," Amos Diggory exclaimed, his eyes widening. "Harry? Harry Potter?"

"Yes, it's nice to meet you, sir." Harry said, shaking hands with Cedric's father. Harry was used to people looking curiously at him when they met him, used to the way their eyes moved at once to the lightning scar on his forehead. Even still, it always made him feel uncomfortable.

"Ced's talked about you, of course," Amos Diggory said at once. "Told us all about playing against you last year. I said to him, I said — Ced, that'll be something to tell your grandchildren, that will. _You beat Harry Potter_!"

Harry couldn't think of any reply to this, so he remained silent and smiled. Fred and George were both scowling again. Cedric looked slightly embarrassed.

"Harry fell from his broom, Dad," Cedric muttered, looking down at his trainers. "I told you… It was an accident, and there were Dementors, and it was—"

"Yes, yes but you didn't fall off! Did you?" Amos roared genially, slapping his son on his back. "Always modest, our Ced, always the gentleman. But the best man won, I'm sure Harry would say the same. Wouldn't you, eh? One falls off his broom, one stays on. You don't need to be a genius to tell which one's the better flier!"

"Then perhaps Cedric and I can play again sometime," Harry said cordially, his arms crossed. Cedric once again bowed his head, but Amos' lips thinned a bit with his cheer damped, "Clear weather and no Dementors. Fair and square, right?"

"Must be nearly time," Mr. Weasley said quickly, pulling out his watch again. "Do you know whether we're waiting for any more, Amos?"

"No, the Lovegoods have been there for a week already and the Fawcetts couldn't get tickets," Mr. Diggory latched on to the change in subject rather fast, recovering from the awkward lapse Harry's challenge created in him. "There aren't any more of us in this area, are there?"

"Not that I know of," Mr. Weasley said, checking his watch once more. "Yes, it's a minute off… We'd better get ready." He looked around at Harry and Hermione. "You just need to touch the Portkey, that's all. A finger will do…"

With difficulty, owing to their bulky backpacks, the nine of them crowded around the old boot held out by Amos Diggory. They all stood there, in a tight circle, as a chill breeze swept over the hilltop. Nobody spoke, and it wasn't lost on Harry how odd this would look if a Muggle were to walk up here now. Nine people, two of them grown men, clutching some manky old boot in the dawn of day, waiting for something to happen…

"Three…" Mr. Weasley was muttering aloud, one eye still on his watch, "two… one…"

It happened immediately: Harry felt as though a hook just behind his navel had been suddenly jerked irresistibly forward. His feet left the ground; he could feel Ron and Hermione on either side of him, their shoulders banging into his. They were all speeding forward in a howl of wind and swirling color; his forefinger was stuck to the boot as though it was pulling him magnetically onward.

And then his feet slammed into the ground. Ron staggered into him. Harry was forced to catch himself and Ron's weight on unsteady feet before they were both sent to the ground. The Portkey hit the ground with a heavy thud. Harry looked around. Aside from him and Ron, only Mr. Weasley, Mr. Diggory, and Cedric were still standing, though looking very windswept. Everybody else was on the ground.

* * *

"Seven past five from Stoatshead Hill," said a voice.

Harry disentangled himself from Ron and both straightened themselves up into a more dignified manner.

They had arrived on what appeared to be a deserted stretch of misty moor. In front of them was a pair of tired and grumpy-looking wizards, one of whom was holding a large gold watch, the other a thick roll of parchment and a quill. Both were dressed as Muggles, though very inexpertly: The man with the watch wore a tweed suit with thigh-length galoshes. His colleague was dressed in a kilt and a poncho.

"Morning, Basil," Mr. Weasley greeted the man in the tweed suit. He picked up the boot and handed it over to the kilted wizard, who threw it into a large box of used Portkeys beside him. Harry could see an old newspaper, an empty drinks can, and a punctured football.

"Good morning, Arthur," Basil replied wearily. "Not on duty, eh? It's all right for some… We've been here all night. You'd better get out of the way, we've got a big party coming in from the Black Forest at five-fifteen. Hang on, I'll find your campsite… Weasley… Weasley…" the man consulted his parchment list. "About a quarter of a mile's walk over in _that_ direction, first field you come to. Site manager's called Mr. Roberts. Diggory… second field… ask for Mr. Payne."

"Thank you, Basil," Mr. Weasley showed appreciation through a respectful nod, and he beckoned everyone to follow him.

They set off across the deserted moor, unable to make out much through the mist. After about twenty minutes, a small stone cottage next to a gate swam into view. Beyond it, Harry could just make out the ghostly shapes of hundreds and hundreds of tents, rising up the gentle slope of a large field toward a dark wood on the horizon.

"Psst," Harry nudged Ron and then Hermione, both who turned to him in unison. "Cedric, he's strong. In the Force, I mean. I've been getting this nagging feeling at the back of my neck ever since we joined up with the Diggorys. I thought it was the magic of the Portkey, but now I'm sure… it's him."

Hermione and Ron exchanged looks between them, even as the group was forced to say their good-byes to the Diggorys and approached the cottage door. A man was standing in the doorway, looking out at the tents. Harry knew at a glance that this was the only real Muggle for several acres. When he heard their footsteps, he turned his head to look at them.

"Morning!" Mr. Weasley greeted brightly.

"Morning," the Muggle man said skeptically.

"Would you be Mr. Roberts?"

"Aye, I would," Mr. Roberts answered with a nod. "And who're you?"

"Weasley — two tents, booked a couple of days ago?"

"Aye," Mr. Roberts nodded again, consulting a list tacked to the door. "You've got a space up by the wood there. Just the one night?"

"That's it," Mr. Weasley replied with a smile.

"You'll be paying now, then?" Mr. Roberts asked, his eyebrow arched.

"Ah — right — certainly —" Mr. Weasley said quickly before retreating a short distance from the cottage and beckoned Harry toward him.

"Help me, Harry," he muttered, pulling a roll of Muggle money from his pocket and starting to peel the notes apart.

Harry helped Mr. Weasley with the correct amount of money to give the man, but when the Muggle guy started asking too many question, a wizard from the Ministry popped into existence in front of him and wiped the man's mind of the last three minutes.

"Been having a lot of trouble with him." the wizard said with a weary sigh and slumped shoulders, "Bloke needs a Memory Charm ten times a day to keep him happy and oblivious. And Ludo Bagman's not helping. Trotting around talking about Bludgers and Quaffles at the top of his voice, not a worry about anti-Muggle security. Blimey, I'll be glad when this is over. See you later, Arthur."

And just like that, the Ministry wizard was gone as quickly as he came.

The group set out along the campsite and already found people in tents coming out and starting fires for breakfast. Mr. Weasley led them to a spot on the campsite that had a sign pegged into the ground that read _Weezley_.

Harry resisted the urge to laugh openly at the spelling, but not well enough it seemed when Ron, who was next to him, still took the moment to punch him in the arm.

"Couldn't have a better spot!" Mr. Weasley squealed happily, ignoring the sign completely, "The field is just on the other side of the wood there, we're as close as we could be."

He hoisted his backpack from his shoulders. "Right," he said excitedly, "no magic allowed, strictly speaking, not when we're out in these numbers on Muggle land. We'll be putting these tents up by hand! Shouldn't be too difficult… Muggles do it all the time… Here, Harry, where do you reckon we should start?"

Harry had never been camping in a day in this life. The Dursleys had never taken him on any kind of holiday, preferring to leave him with Mrs. Figg, an old neighbor. Even still, with Hermione helping him and remembering a few things he picked up from Yoda, Harry was smart enough to work out where most of the poles and pegs should go. They allowed Mr. Weasley run of the mallet, though that had been more of a hindrance than help, because he got thoroughly overexcited when it came to using the tool.

They finally managed to erect a pair of shabby two-man tents, and all stepped back to proudly inspect their hard work.

"That was pretty quick Harry," Ginny complimented with a hand on her hip, "Do you go camping often?"

"No, I've honestly never been," Harry replied with a shake of his head, "the Dursleys aren't really camping people. They go on holiday, but never anything rough like camping. I just picked up a few things from Yoda over this summer. He knows a lot about roughing it in the woods, especially since he lives in the woods out behind Little Whining."

"Well then, you'll have to thank Mr. Yoda for us when you see him next. Now then," Mr. Weasley rubbed his hands together in excitement. He then dropped to his hands and knees as he entered the first tent. "Let's see what they're like on the inside!"

"Well of course they look good," Hermione said in a huff, shooting Harry a quizzical look, "But still we won't all fit."

"We'll be a bit cramped," the head of the Weasley family called from inside, "but I think we'll all squeeze in. Come and have a look."

"Just go in," Ginny said with a smirk on her face, giving Hermione a slight nudge at the hip, "I want to see the look on your face."

Hermione huffed again, but dropped to her knees and crawled through the tent flap with Ginny hot on her heels. Harry followed them; curious to see what the insides of the tent looked like.

He came in walking, that was the first thing that told him it was not an ordinary tent aside from the previous hints in conversation. He walked into what looked like an old-fashioned, three-room flat, complete with bathroom and kitchen. Oddly enough, it was furnished in exactly the same sort of style as Mrs. Figg's house. There were crocheted covers on the mismatched chairs and a strong smell of cats.

Suddenly, Harry found himself missing old Yoda in the Little Whining woods. He wondered what his Jedi mentor was up to at this very moment, and decided right then that he would owl Yoda the first chance he got.


	6. Cups Flow Over

**A/N: I realize that some people are put off by what happened in the last chapter, but I ask that everyone give the story a fair shake. That is all.**

 **Chapter 6: Cups Flow Over**

* * *

The sun was setting on Coruscant, this Yoda knew.

He knew this because it rose and set with opposite spatial and temporal increments as that of his new home for the past few years.

If he closed his eyes, he could still see it. Shadows running like black water, filling up the alleys first, then climbing steadily higher, like a tidal wave of darkness rising to drown the capital. Twilight's gloom would spread over retail districts and med-centers, and creep like a dark stain up the walls of the Emperor – once Chancellor – residence as the sun would slip below the horizon. Soon only the rooftops would be gilded with the day's last yellow light; then the shadows would conquer them, too, swarming up the pinnacles of the Senate Building and the spires of the abandoned Jedi Temple.

The long day of the Republic was now coming to an end.

Dusk on Coruscant… Dawn to his new home…

On a moonless night a million standard years earlier, perhaps even before the rise of sentient beings, sunset would have meant darkness absolute, except for the distant burn of the stars. Not now. Even after galactic war, Coruscant was still the blazing heart of the greatest civilization in the history of the galaxy.

Yoda remembered it fondly. As the sun retreated, the great city began to sparkle with innumerable lights. Speeders darted between tall towers like fireflies dancing in meadows of steel. Signs flared to life along every street, blinking bright promises at evening passersby. Lights came on in the windows of apartments and stores and offices. Even after galactic war and the Jedi Order was betrayed, life went on despite the rise of the greatest dark since the time of Darth Bane. Each individual life burning bravely, like a candle raised against the night. Yoda kept his eyes on the distant stars, hoping that scattered Jedi and those under the thumb of the Empire could feel him and knew that there was still hope for the galaxy.

Yoda felt his age upon him. His joints ached, and his eyes grew heavy.

But no, he would not greet the long sleep of death. Not now… not yet…

Hope was not yet a luxury, but instead the duty of every Jedi and decent citizen of the universe. Whether they could touch the Force or not, Yoda wished with all his might that they all held within them a torch of hope that was passed between them, reaching all the way back to him and his fellow Jedi Knights.

The Clone Wars had been like a mighty hand. It had flung Jedi throughout the stars, and then swiftly swatted them like flies once Order 66 had been issued. The reality of it was cutting. That accursed war had been controlled by a single man, leaving only a fragment of the Order across the galaxy at any time now. Yoda, of course, had exiled himself for his failures to the Order in which he had been entrusted all those years ago by Master Fae Coven.

Tonight only two others were here to join him in solace.

Only one of them was amongst the living, still light years away, but drawing steadily nearer.

And the other held power through the Force that Yoda could still only sparsely imagine.

" _He will be safe, Master Yoda_." The voice was in the Force, but did not give rise to a single ripple through the unseen current of energy. " _His path lies with this world_."

"Hmm…" Yoda hummed, slowly closing his eyes as he felt Obi-Wan through the Force. The bearded Master was steadily making his way to the planet Earth, but with Qui-Gon's help, the three were connected in a way that went beyond mortal senses. Through Qui-Gon's help and the Force, Yoda could see Obi-Wan as clearly as if the man were there in front of him. In front of them both, Qui-Gon stood as he did when they had last saw him in the Council chambers on Coruscant, strong and resolved, yet humble and calm.

"From what I've been hearing, this Harry Potter sounds like a welcome change." Obi-Wan said this, but both Yoda and Qui-Gon could feel his trepidation in the wake of learning about Harry's training.

It was not tradition. It went against everything he had been taught in his generation of the Jedi. Yoda was old enough to remember a time where background and age were trivial to the Order, even if it had been so _very_ long ago. And Qui-Gon was far removed from the trivial rules of the mortal world. Obi-Wan most likely wanted to asset Harry for himself, to see not only with his eyes, but also with his heart that Harry was indeed on the path to becoming a true Jedi.

It was one of the reasons that, day after day, he kept himself from making contact with Luke's life and grew more anxious about the day the young sandy-haired moisture farm boy he would need guidance into the larger universe.

It was dizzying to know that he would one day need to teach Luke the same as he taught Anakin. To know that Luke could, at any one time in that journey, make the same mistakes once again which would lead Luke unto a path that not only found him standing in front of _that man_ , but perhaps even walking beside _that man_ through the darkness. It was something that made Obi-Wan awaken in a cold sweat, but also kept him up the rest of the night until he could force himself into a dreamless sleep.

Obi-Wan saw without sight the wrinkling of Master Yoda's raised eyebrow. Even at his age, the Force still astounded him with its magnificence.

"In a nerf's coat, the krayt dragon known as Palatine hid under our noses…" Yoda muttered, whether to himself or them was a mystery even the Force could not penetrate.

"We need you, Master." Obi-Wan wasn't sure which of his teachers he was talking to.

Maybe he was referring to Yoda for his being alive, so wise and ancient that even the Emperor would hesitate to face him should he ever come out of self-imposed exile.

Maybe he was talking to Qui-Gon for being one with the Force, so bold and courageous, now more powerful than Obi-Wan could possibly imagine and certainly more than the Empire could stand against.

"The Empire is ruling the core of the galaxy with an iron fist. And now they're expanding. Every day they're left to search out new planets to conquer is one more they'll find new methods of cruelty to inflict on the worlds. The resistance needs guidance. It needs wisdom, strength, knowledge, and courage… I need all of that as well…"

Qui-Gon studied Obi-Wan. He examined Obi-Wan's very _soul_ with great scrutiny. Yoda tapped out a pattern on the floor of his tiny hut with his gimer stick. Obi-Wan Kenobi, light-years away from Yoda, and an entire plane of existence from Qui-Gon Jinn, bowed his head in embarrassment and felt his forty year-old face flush as if he were a teenage Padawan again.

"Need strength, do you, hmm? Need knowledge, does Obi-Wan Kenobi, hmm?" Yoda scoffed at his own questions, poking Obi-Wan in the chest with the Force surrounding his gimer stick. Obi-Wan felt that poke as if it had really happened, not with the Force, but with the walking cane itself. "Look inside! Look inside! Within you, an illuminous being is there! Master Kenobi thinks he needs strength, wisdom, knowledge and courage. Ha! Needs none of this. Inside of him, it already is."

" _Indeed_." Qui-Gon's one word held such weight that it faltered Obi-Wan with both its power and the mirth it was said with.

" _How was Luke when you last saw him_?" Qui-Gon asked, even though he knew better than anyone about the Skywalker boy's condition, both mental and physical through the Force.

Master Yoda stirred and shook his head. The others looked to him. "Strong in the Force, young Skywalker already is. But not ready is he. Adventure and excitement, a Jedi does not crave. Harry Potter, know this he does. But at great personal risk, learned this lesson he has."

" _Indeed_." There was no mirth in Qui-Gon ghostly voice this time, only sober knowledge.

Obi-Wan carefully hid what he thought from the Force deep inside himself. So deep that Qui-Gon would never think to gleam so starkly within the privacy of his mind. So deep within himself, he thought about this Harry Potter. Who was he to garner the attention of Master Yoda? The acceptance of Quin-Gon? Their time and patience in the Jedi arts? Their familiarity and acquaintanceship?

And what were they talking about now? Was this Harry Potter a person who had once craved adventure and excitement, but now learning to temper himself? That sounded too much like Anakin had been in the beginning for Obi-Wan's liking. But even still, he took these thoughts and feelings and let them go. He trusted Master Yoda and Qui-Gon's judgement. They knew what they were doing. One as old as the Republic and now even older, the other now as ageless as time and space itself.

Obi-Wan felt that something within him would change with this visit to Master Yoda.

With this visit to meet and inspect Harry Potter.

* * *

"I borrowed this from Perkins at the office. Doesn't camp much anymore, poor fellow, he's got lumbago." Mr. Weasley said, mopping his bald patch with a handkerchief and peering in at the four bunk beds that stood in the bedroom. Inside the tent was an old-fashioned, three-room flat, complete with bathroom and kitchen. Oddly enough, it was furnished in exactly the same sort of style as Mrs. Figg's house, complete with crocheted covers on the mismatched chairs and a strong smell of cats.

They were all standing around inside the tent, checking its condition and enjoying the wonders of magic. At least, Harry was as he peered around at everything in sight like it was all a strange new world.

"It will never cease to amaze…" Harry breathed as Mr. Weasley picked up a dusty kettle and peered inside it.

"We'll need water…"

"There's a tap marked on this map the Muggle gave us," Ron said, looking completely nonchalant about the extraordinary inner proportions of the tent.

In fact, he seemed more fascinated by the map than anything.

"It's on the other side of the field." Hermione piped in, leaning over Ron's shoulder to have a peek at the map.

"Well, why don't we go and get us some water then," Harry said as he used the Force to snatch the kettle and a couple of saucepans from Mr. Weasley before dividing them amongst himself, Ron, and Hermione.

"Good thinking, lad." Mr. Weasley gave a nod of agreement as he turned his attention to the flaps of the tent. "Meanwhile, the rest of us will get some wood for a fire."

"But we've got an oven," Ron complained, knowing exactly what his father was up to. "We could just cast—"

"Ron, anti-Muggle security!" Mr. Weasley made sure to stage whisper back at his son, his face shining with anticipation. "When real Muggles camp, they cook on fires outdoors. I've seen them at it!"

After a quick tour of the girls' tent, which was slightly smaller than the boys' one, and even came without the smell of cats, Harry, Ron, and Hermione set off across the campsite with the kettle and saucepans. Now, with the sun newly risen and the mist lifting, they could see the city of tents that stretched in every direction. They made their way slowly through the rows, staring eagerly around. It was only just dawning on Harry how many witches and wizards there must be in the world; he had never really thought much about those in other countries. Seeing of this made Harry curious to where Yoda came from. Which Republic did his little elf mentor hail from? He wondered if Yoda would ever be willing to go back and visit his old home, as well as take Harry with him.

Harry noticed their fellow campers were starting to wake up. First to stir were the families with small children; Harry had never seen witches and wizards so young before. A tiny boy no older than two was crouched outside a large pyramid-shaped tent, holding a wand and poking happily at a slug in the grass, which was swelling slowly to the size of a salami. As they drew level with him, his mother came hurrying out of the tent.

"How many times, Kevin? You don't — touch — Daddy's — wand — yecchh!" She had trodden on the giant slug, which burst. Her scolding carried after them on the still air, mingling with the little boy's cries.

"You bust slug! You bust slug!"

A short way farther on, they saw two little witches, barely older than Kevin, who were riding toy broomsticks that rose only high enough for the girls' toes to skim the dewy grass. A Ministry wizard had already spotted them; as he hurried past Harry, Ron, and Hermione he muttered distractedly, "In broad daylight! Parents having a lie-in, I suppose…"

Here and there adult wizards and witches were emerging from their tents and starting to cook breakfast. Some, with furtive looks around them, conjured fires with their wands; others were striking matches with dubious looks on their faces, as though sure this couldn't work. Three African wizards sat in serious conversation, all of them wearing long white robes and roasting what looked like a rabbit on a bright purple fire, while a group of middle-aged American witches sat gossiping happily beneath a star-spangled banner stretched between their tents that read: the Salem Witches' Institute. Harry caught snatches of conversation in strange languages from the inside of tents they passed, and though he couldn't understand a word, the tone of every single voice was excited.

"Er — is it my eyes, or has everything gone green?" Ron winced.

It wasn't just Ron's eyes. They had walked into a patch of tents that were all covered with a thick growth of shamrocks, so that it looked as though small, oddly shaped hillocks had sprouted out of the earth. Grinning faces could be seen under those that had their flaps open.

"I suppose they've all brought a little piece of the rolling hills of Ireland with them," Harry muttered, folding his arms across his chest with an amused grin on his face. Harry wondered if he could dig a little pond next to the Wealsey's tent and invite Yoda. You know, to make him feel more at home.

Then, from behind them, they heard their names.

"Harry! Ron! Hermione!" It was Seamus Finnigan, their fellow Gryffindor fourth year. He was sitting in front of his own shamrock-covered tent, with a sandy-haired woman who had to be his mother, and his best friend, Dean Thomas, also of Gryffindor. Seamus waved them over, but as Harry neared them, he felt as though the gentle waves of the Force grew denser with every step.

There was another Jedi nearby. Of this, Harry was certain. He couldn't tell just yet who this other trained individual was, but he only felt the Force as thickly as he was now when Yoda gained a particularly sharp edge to his seriousness in their exercises. It had been a while since the last time he had felt the Force so utterly, but the feeling was unmistakable.

There was another… And they were close…

"Like the decorations?" Seamus said, puffing out his chest and grinning proudly. "The Ministry's not too happy."

Harry stared at him for a moment, unsure if it was him that was making waves in the unseen waters. Seamus didn't act anything like Yoda, but then again neither did Harry. And if his only measure of Jedi or not was the backward-speaking tiny green Yoda, then Harry was sure he'd never actually find another Force-user unless Dobby hid a lightsaber under his pillow-case garbs.

Still, that prickly feeling at the nap of his neck would not be ignored.

Someone strong in the Force was nearby.

"Ah, why shouldn't we show our colors?" Mrs. Finnigan huffed with a dismissive wave of her hand. "You should see what the Bulgarians have got dangling all over their tents. You'll be supporting Ireland, of course?" she added, eyeing Harry, Ron, and Hermione beadily.

Harry was sure it was not her that was deepening the Force around them. Just like with the older members of the Weasley, and then again with Amos Diggory, it seemed to Harry that the older the person was, the weaker they were in the Force.

Maybe it had something to do with using magic. For their entire lives the wizards grew and educated themselves with spells and charms, ignorant of the Force and complacent with its counterpart. Perhaps, after so long a time, the Force simply left them without potential upon adulthood. It made a certain degree of sense. After all, if a wizard went without magic for a long time, it would build up into harmful accidental magic. Maybe the Force did the opposite; instead of building up, it diminished until there was only the minimal dregs of universal power left flowing through you.

Seamus and Dean felt the same as Hermione and Ron within the Force. All of them had the potential. For some reason, Harry felt surer of Ron's potential. Not much, just a shade more confident that Ron would stick with the exercises while Hermione would dominate the reflective properties of their training. Seamus gave off an air of equal opportunity on the matter. And as for Dean—

Harry's eyes widened as he whipped around and locked eyes with Dean Thomas, who had a gob-smacked look on his face. Harry was sure he was mirroring the expression perfectly.

"You… but how…? How could _you_ possibly know…?" Dean mouthed, eyes wide and wild as he looked Harry up and down. Before Harry could make his mouth work again, to ask what was happening. What this moment meant, Dean suddenly ducked his head and disappeared into the tent next to the one Seamus and his mother were in front of. Harry wanted to follow him, to understand better what had just transpired.

The Force hadn't been centered on Dean at first. No, it had been in the area like a wave moving to the coast with Harry playing the part of a seashell. Then when he gave Dean his full focus, it was like the wave became a water spout in which Dean was shooting at everyone around him, bouncing his fragrant energy off anyone and everyone around him.

Dean Thomas was strong in the Force. Not the same as Cedric, who seemed to have a reign over his powers. Maybe focus and control came naturally with age? Harry shook his head. There were too many questions and not enough answers. It was frustrating!

But he was patient. If Yoda had beaten one thing into him, it was patience. Harry could wait for Dean to come to him with an explanation, or until he himself came up with one.

Or ya know, until they met up back at Hogwarts. Whichever came first really, Harry thought as he calmed down. He might have learned patience, but it was far from infinite in measure.

* * *

Harry became dimly aware that they had set off again after assuring Seamus's mum that they were indeed supporting Ireland. He felt Hermione's hand between his shoulder blades, forcing him to walk away while he was still staring back at Dean's tent, craning his neck in order to not let the camp out of his sight.

Harry blinked and turned around, taking control of his pace as Ron began to speak.

"Like we'd be stupid enough to say anything else surrounded by that lot." The redhead rolled his eyes before nudging Harry, "And what was all that back there?"

"I don't know…" and Harry felt stupid for not knowing. He had no idea what had just occurred for those five minutes. He felt a faint ringing in his ears, and the Force had settled as soon as Dean ran away.

He must have gained control. Or maybe Dean had been looking for another Force-user without knowing that it was Harry.

So many questions, but no answers in sight…

"You turned around and Dean ran inside his tent." Hermione said with a skeptical look, "Did you two have a falling out last term?"

"No, no," Harry shook his head, sure that Hermione was already coming up with wild theories on his and Dean's weird behavior. "I think… I think it's a Force thing…"

"The Force? Really?" This made Hermione all the more curious. Harry didn't need magic or the Force to see that. "Was he doing something?"

"No," Harry began slowly, looking around to be sure no one was paying them any attention, "he was just… there. Like… just _there_. I can't really explain it, but it felt like he and I being there made the Force ring out between us, or something."

"Hmm," Hermione reached a hand into her jeans pocket and produced a notebook. A quill quickly followed and she began to scribble furiously. "So what you're saying is that the Force between you two reacted in a strange way? One that made it capable to identify each other? Sort of like a sonar…"

"Yeah, maybe…" Harry said, nervously rubbing at the back of his neck. He still faintly felt the prickles at the nap of his hair, but they were fading now.

"So people who use the Force can find one another by stirring the Force between each other." Hermione was completely engrossed in her notebook. So much so that Harry had to pull her out of the way of a tent where an Asian wizard gave her a scathing look when she barely missed his cooking pot. "Harry, that's amazing! Wizards don't have a way of identifying other wizards around them unless they're seen doing magic."

She snapped her attention to Harry, "Oh! Can you also identify magic?"

"Well, yeah," Harry said, again rubbing at the back of his neck nervously, "but I've had that kind of skill way before training with Yoda. The first time it happened was in Olivander's wand shop. I remember feeling the hairs on the back of my neck stand. It felt like a completely different world inside his shop…"

"Hmm, strong you are, Harry Potter…" Ron gurgled, making Harry jump as he whipped his head around in every direction. After only a few tries, Ron had quickly gotten down a near perfect Yoda impression that even Harry still had trouble with. "Ha! Its getting better."

"Please stop, Ron…" Harry groaned, trying hard to calm his racing heart. He was still skeptical about Yoda's opinion on teaching his friends, or even telling them about the Force and everything. Harry was going to stick by his decision, but he hoped to forestall the confrontation with Yoda at least until he had showed them how to do something practical. He desperately wanted this to be something he could share with them, utterly and intimately.

"I wonder what the Bulgarians have got dangling all over their tents." Hermione said after they fell into a lapse of silence.

"Let's go and have a look then," Harry grinned, a little lighter as he pointed to a large patch of tents up ahead, where the Bulgarian flag — white, green, and red — was fluttering in the breeze.

The tents here had not been bedecked with plant life, but each and every one of them had the same poster attached to it, a poster of a very surly face with heavy black eyebrows.

The picture was, of course, moving, but all it did was blink and scowl.

"Krum," Ron said quietly.

"What?" Hermione asked, her eyebrows knitting together.

"Krum!" Ron exclaimed. "Viktor Krum, the Bulgarian Seeker!"

"He looks really grumpy," Hermione said, looking around at the many Krums blinking and scowling at them.

"Oh my… Really grumpy, she says…" Ron raised his eyes and hands to the heavens. "Who cares what he looks like? He's unbelievable. He's really young too. Only just eighteen or something. He's a genius, you wait until tonight, you'll see."

"Maybe he's secretly a Jedi," Harry muttered, a small grin on his face.

He instantly regretted the joke.

Ron turned sharply to Harry, a new light dancing in his blue eyes. "You should start teaching us some of the Force stuff soon. Maybe if I learn enough, I can join the Quidditch team! If I can do all those handstands and flips you were doing in the room last night, then I'll be a shoe-in for Keeper!"

Harry goggled back at Ron, then let his face screw up in concentration as he mentally went through what would be the best way to properly introduce his friends to the Force. They hadn't felt anything out of place when he and Dean were practically moving through rough motions with the Force practically swimming around them. How could he get them to feel the Force's touch before putting it into practice?

Then again, he thought with startling clarity, he hadn't felt the Force at all in his life before discovering Yoda. Maybe that was the key. Maybe all wizards and witches felt it, but just were unaware of what they were feeling?

Convinced that he had arrived at the right conclusion, Harry relaxed his body and evened out his breathing. He guided the Force around him to rise and fall like the waves of the ocean. He focused only on his breathing and the Force. For now, this would serve him best.

There was already a small queue for the tap in the corner of the field. With a deep breath, Harry pulled the Force in close to him. Exhaling, he sent it outward as far as his sixth sense would reach. He felt the waves crash against quite a few people instead of flowing through them as it did with all manner of life. These were the potential Force-wielders. But they weren't Harry's concern at the moment. He had to focus on the task before him instead of how he felt all those people somewhere out in the distance. A few of them had even seemed familiar.

In one final exercise, Harry conducted all the energy to him in a final lift, filling himself with such power and focus that it was nearly intoxicating to believe all this energy went unused and unfelt by the wizards around him. The Force gathered to him and wrapping itself around him, within him. He breathed it in and held it whirling inside his heart, clenching down upon it until he could feel the spin of the entire world around him. Until he felt like the axis upon which the universe spun.

This was the Force, unbridled and raw in its strength. He was there to give it focus. To steer the power Yoda had introduced him to. All at once Harry knew that he had always been different. From the normal folk on Privet Drive muggles and from the wizards all around him now. This was what made him different. This power. This ability to tap into the Force at will. It had always been there, and perhaps he had suspected even as a boy. He had accepted the reality of magic so well when Hagrid told him about wizards.

Too well.

It had been so convenient. That magic be the answer to why he was so different. As soon as he had known there was a power out there he wielded, one which he relatives did not, he had been satisfied with his life because it had answered so much.

But now, with the Force as his ally, Harry knew there were more answers out there. And with the Force… with magic… with _both_ under his belt, Harry finally— _at long last_ —felt truly and wonderfully _complete_! Yoda had opened his eyes, and shown him what he should have seen all along.

But he would not be distracted by the incredible insight and clarity of thought. He was in the middle of something important to him. Harry took that power and focused it. For a moment, the water from tap hung suspended in the air. The fires in camps froze as if stunned by magic. He used the Force to keep the world frozen in, and did it a moment longer just to prove to himself that he could do it. The silence of the forest filled his ears. Then he let it fall away. All the water gushed out and raced once again. The flames roared back to life as if nothing had paused them. The people, the world… The noise…

Harry took one last deep breath, but this time centered himself without aid of the Force. The world seemed enormous now, a torrent of life and living. Harry grinned to himself. That power, that silence… It simply wasn't him. He liked the noise. He loved life. He was living. Every voice filled with confusion and trepidation he could hear in every direction.

Harry turned to his friends, both of whom were wide-eyed and jaw-dropped. He knew with sight beyond sight that they had felt that surge of power. He grinned even bigger at them. This was only a part of what he was capable of— what _they_ would be capable of in the future. Soon they would know it as well. He would show them that they could and would learn. He would make them know it. Yoda had been gentle with repeated attempts to make Harry learn to feel the Force around. But Harry lacked Yoda's years of experience. All he had for now was his courage to try anything, including overwhelming the sixth sense of his friends.

"That was… Harry, you…" it was very rare that Hermione could be rendered speechless. Harry's grin turned impish as he realized the Force was indeed good for a lot of things. Taking the words from Hermione's mouth was just another property on the growing list. "Let's just get that water now."

Harry had to hide his laughter from Hermione, but obviously didn't do a good job of it as she went tomato-red and began slapping his arm repeatedly. Ron was only grinning as the light of mischief never left his eyes.

* * *

On an outbreak of hills south of Surrey, Yoda awaited Obi-Wan Kenobi's landing patiently. He would be appearing from the glare of the sun like a solar flare under the cover of light in order to bring the least amount of attention to his arrival. Night time would have seen him as a shooting start, but then people would ask the question of where that star fell. During the daylight hours, Obi-Wan's ship could be written off as just about any flying contraption the people of this world had developed by now. This was the standard approach for sneaking onto worlds not yet a part of Galactic Republic, or as it was known now as the Galactic Empire.

Yoda's breathing was even and undisturbed as he sunk himself deep into the Force. The certain curve of darkness the planet hid Yoda from the Empire, allowed him to stretch his powers without fear of it being noticed by Palpatine's far-reaching sight. This did not hold true for agents of darkness on the planet itself, but Yoda was well assured that the Empire would never reach this world. It held nothing of interest, and was primitive compared to the Core Worlds of the galaxy.

Yoda could feel everything on the planet as it existed to the Force. Every rock and tree, every river and mountain, every person and animal. Touching them with the Force was nothing compared to reaching the hundreds of trillions of sentient and complex beings which roamed Coruscant. Not only were the people and creatures of this world simpler in their ways, but also in their own thoughts. It was refreshing to know that Humans and other sentient individuals could still live lives so uncomplicated by what lay beyond the stars for them.

Yoda felt radiance fall upon him as he enjoyed this peace.

This was the Force, this was light.

As he is sat atop the hillside awaiting Obi-Wan, he had no need to look up into the sky to know that Obi-Wan was preparing himself to break through the atmosphere and land. He didn't have to shift while counting the number of being he felt knew the Force as he did. There were few, but none that Yoda felt were familiar from his Order. He counted them all, and then focused his mind's eye on Harry Potter.

Strong was the young man in the Force, but still his journey would see him grow stronger. Yoda had allowed Harry away from him in order to see just how the young man would return to him. It was not a matter of non-attachment, but a chance for Harry to prove himself a capable student. Yoda and Obi-Wan would need to do the same with Luke when the time came for them to show him the ways of the Force.

Yoda released a sign of breath as he let go of the world. He doesn't even need to reach into the Force. He has already let the Force reach into him. The Force flowed over him and around him as though he had stepped into a crystal-pure waterfall lost in the green coils of a forgotten rain forest.

Already it was revealing answers to his mind that he had never once thought of.

Harry Potter and Luke Skywalker. Strong in the Force, but together they would be greater even.

Great enough, perhaps, to usher in a new chapter of the Jedi Order?

Yes, Yoda thought as he opened himself more to that sparkling stream of light in the Force. It brought with it clarity and flowed into him and through him and out again without the slightest interference from his conscious will. Harry's age would bring wisdom with power. Luke's youth would bring innocence with caution.

The part of him that called itself Yoda was no more than a ripple at this point in his meditation, an eddy in the pool into which the Force endlessly poured.

"Master Yoda," Obi-Wan's voice washed over him, but Yoda did not stir.

For in the Force, there was nothing here that was not a part of him, from the grass beneath him relaxing under his weight, to patience in Obi-Wan's stance as he knew to await the natural end of Yoda's inner journey than to speak again.

Because this was all part of the Force.

Somehow, mysteriously, the cloud that darkened the Force around the planet—Earth was the name given by the locals—and the miasma of Palpatine's evil lightened around him now. Yoda found within himself the translucent clarity he recalled from his older years at the Jedi Temple, when the Force was pure, and clean, and perfect. It is as though the darkness had withdrawn, coiled back upon itself as Yoda felt Harry somewhere off in the distance gather the Force for himself as he had been taught.

Yes, this moment was grand as Yoda felt Harry bring more light to his clarity as combined they staved off the darkness all around them. Harry probably was completely unaware that Yoda could sense him, feel his concentration as well as his wealth of strength. This moment in time was grand as Yoda allowed himself joy in the clarity of the moment, feeling his age drift away as the full power of the light returned, if only for the moment.

Yoda felt Obi-Wan join him in the Force, but he did not break the moment. He was incapable of even wondering. In the Force, he was beyond questions. They were meaningless; an echo of the past, or maybe a whisper from the future. All that mattered, for this infinite now, is what, and where, and who.

He is Yoda. He is Obi-Wan Kenobi. He is Harry Potter. He is the grass. He is the ship Obi-Wan flew in on. The rocks. The trees. The wizards. The average humans. The other sentient groups on the planet.

He is all these things, but most importantly, he is still Yoda. The world whirled around him, but he did not move to the spin of the globe.

He was only moved by the shifting of the Force.

And the Force told him to wait a moment longer as he felt Harry's presence subtly altered, though to the physical eye there was no change.

Powered by the light side, Yoda's perception took the measure of Harry's ethereal existence as though the boy stood in front of him. Harry was plainly visible to a master as wise and experienced as Yoda, and Obi-Wan joined him as he too gazed upon the youth with the precision afforded only to a deft hand.

In that moment, Harry became a storm cloud. His presence in the Force flickered with the danger of lightning, building into itself until it threatened to explode violently back at the world. The darkness moved for Harry's heart, but still Yoda did not stir. With his exhilarating clarity, Yoda knew that wickedness would not reach Harry's heart. The power Harry held nearly started rotation, threatening a tornado the likes of which Yoda knew was capable only for the strong and deeply troubled.

But in the next moment, Harry simply held it all. All of it was held so close to his heart, that Obi-Wan's presence flickered in response, his disbelief so great that he nearly lost his sight beyond sight. But he did not, and Harry did not allow the rotation to build.

Instead, he let it all go by choice. The power washed away, like a wave returning to the ocean. And for an infinite moment, Yoda and Obi-Wan were treated to the sight of what Harry could become.

A luminous, transparent being.

A window onto a sunlit meadow upon which the Force shone with all its brilliant radiance.

"He has done well in this trial, Master Yoda." Yoda did not question who had spoken with him. Qui-Gon Jinn was always everywhere, and yet at the same time he was never anywhere. Obi-Wan was both so near him that their knees were touching, but also so far into the Force that the distance between Earth and Tatooine felt insignificant in comparison.

None of them were in control; they had no _need_ for control. They had the Force. It was the Force that spoke through them. And the Force spoke with many voice, they but a few.

"Hmm," Yoda hummed in thought. He slowly reentered the mundane world, his material body astringent and restricting.

A most dangerous game, Harry was playing…

"Are we waiting for something else, Master?" Obi-Wan asked, himself coming back to the world around them. "I felt it, and I'm sure you felt it as well. He's not ready to impart the knowledge of the Force onto anyone else."

"Much truth to your words, there is," Yoda agreed, but felt not a stir from Qui-Gon's presence hovering around them. "Yet, my decision to allow this it was _not_."

" _He asked for an answer_ ," Qui-Gon's voice imparted onto them, keeping itself devoid of emotion without effort, " _I only gave him the freedom to choose. He chose to teach them; therefore, they will learn. As is the will of the Force_."

"This is absurd!" Obi-Wan argued, a scowl now on his face as he crossed his arms in defiance. He was a Jedi, a very traditional one. He obeyed the Force, yes, but when Qui-Gon went around being the will of the Force, Obi-Wan felt he needed to put his foot down every now and then. "You're being careless, Qui-Gon! It's not your place as the Force to influence the decisions of a boy not fully trained in the Jedi way! You should have presented yourself to him, and flatly denied his whim!"

" _Then who would learn the ways of the Force, Obi-Wan_?" the question was phrased so innocently that Obi-Wan immediately recognized the trap.

"Hmm, comes with age, experience does. But when first of your kind, you are… Hmm, yes, see your reason now, I do." Yoda briefly closed his eyes and basked in the last morsels of light that were being chased away by the darkness. "However, agree with this decision, Yoda does _not_! It is reckless, and much of your old defiance, I sense in it!"

" _Well… I_ am _the Force now… Sooo_ …" Qui-Gon replied flippantly, everywhere and anywhere as Yoda and Obi-Wan felt his amusement flow through them. If he were in any shape or form, they could have sworn he'd be shrugging as they had no way of stopping him.

"I swear… Letting you die was the worst thing I've ever done in my life… and not for reasons I'm exactly proud of right now…" Obi-Wan shook his head, but then got up. He started back toward his ship where he had left it amidst some trees where it would be sparsely sighted from the skies above unless someone knew where they were looking. "Come on, Master Yoda. We need to guide young Potter before he does something we can't account for."

"Hmm," Yoda still sat was perched atop the hillside.

Stopping his forward motion, Obi-Wan turned back to Yoda in order to ascertain the problem.

If Obi-Wan were honest with himself, he would have admitted to how shocked he was in seeing Yoda again after a few years. He was shocked by how small Master Yoda looked, sitting there, dumpy and awkward in his shapeless robe. Like a sad swamp toad, he thought before he could admonish himself. When he had been younger, even shortly after the war, Obi-Wan would have suppressed the thought at once, shocked at himself. However, with age and life far away from the Jedi Temple, he had learned to watch his thoughts come and go with some amusement.

A mind was just an odd, quirky, and sometimes unruly thing. Even a Jedi mind!

And really, with that great round green head and those drooping ears, a sad swamp toad was exactly right.

Then Yoda shifted and smiled up at him. Even beneath Yoda's weariness and worry, it relaxed Obi-Wan to always feel those deep inexhaustible wells of joy within him. Truly, there had been a time where Obi-Wan and even Qui-Gon had believed that the living Force itself bubbled through Master Yoda.

Obi-Wan sat himself back down next to Yoda. The sound of a gentle breeze and the soft rustling of grass blades against one another was all around, flowing through the hillside in motions the wind orchestrated without rhyme or reason.

"Like this world better than Coruscant, I do…" Yoda said, looking almost ashamed of himself from admitting such a thing. Obi-Wan felt there was nothing to be ashamed of. It was nice here. There was plenty of life on Coruscant, true, but here it was just different. There was life everywhere on this planet, even within the cities and nations. Coruscant as a planet had been dead and unfeeling for many years after the creation of the Republic.

Yoda smiled tiredly, his ears dropping low to his head. "Tired, Yoda is. Rest he needs. Yes… Hmm, much rest does Yoda need… Where is the time for being, Obi-Wan? Hmm? Where? And where is the time for rest, hmm?"

"It was never on Coruscant." Obi-Wan answered frankly, remembering his time on the Jedi High Council. There was always something that needed doing.

Always a decision to make.

Always the war to be fought.

Always the pawns they were to Palpatine's schemes.

Always the Sith were winning.

Always the Jedi were dying…

Yoda nodded forcefully, his voice completely serious, "Truer than you know, speak you. Coruscant… Should have known, Yoda should. With no forests left, no mountains unleveled, no streams left to run their own course… Only there could the Force have become so clouded."

Obi-Wan blinked his eyes. It made a startling amount of sense now that he thought about it.

Then Yoda rose swiftly as if an idea struck him. He straightened and sucked in a deep breath, "Here is best! Wet and still wild, this young planet is with a people living on it. Not so many machines. Not so many machines! Heh, heh!"

Yoda was honestly beginning to scare Obi-Wan with his hysterics.

"Good! Decided it is! We will move the Temple here at once. Far away from Sidious. Far away from Vader." He then picked up his forgotten gimer stick and poked Obi-Wan hard in the shoulder with it. That had hurt, so Obi-Wan knew this was real. He jumped to his feet in surprise. "You shall be in charge, Master Kenobi. Transport the temple here at once, and report to me tomorrow!"

Obi-Wan's eyes were wide and disbelieving. He could vaguely feel Qui-Gon's curiousness in the back of his mind.

He threw his hands in the air. Yoda wanted the impossible!

"You must be joking!" Obi-Wan exclaimed, "I couldn't possibly do such a thing! How would I even fit the temple—" But then he stopped, and his eyes that had a moment ago been so very wide went narrow. "You're laughing at me. I can hear Qui-Gon!"

The old gnome that was Yoda snickered, and Obi-Wan had half a mind to punch him and then Force-punch Qui-Gon in their smirking faces. But, remembering that both were his elders and were still very much needed for the time being, Obi-Wan held his fury in check.

For now, at least…

"Always with you it can't be done. Tried, have you?" Yoda asked, looking up at Obi-Wan again.

"Do or do not," Obi-Wan quoted without a hint of hesitation, "There is no try."

"Hmm, learned well has Master Kenobi." Yoda crowed, scrunching up his nose in distaste. "Using such wise words against the wise."

"…I'll just go set coordinates for where I believe we felt Harry Potter, then…"

Yoda made little shooing motions with his hands.

Half the distance between Yoda and his ship, Obi-Wan allowed a smile to flitter upon his face. He was glad Yoda was so unpredictable. It gave Obi-Wan exactly what he needed in the time he needed it most.

It gave him hope.

* * *

Ron's head was spinning, aching, perhaps exploding for all he could tell. With painstaking effort, he brought his vision into focus, discerning that he was in a forest of trees, its rampant foliage reflecting the rays of the sun. He suddenly realized he was hanging upside down, arms dangling and fingertips some thirty centimeters from the damp and misty ground below him. His ankles were numb. He craned his neck and saw that his feet were tied together and he was hog-tied from a thick tree branch.

Ugh, his head was still spinning. Harry had been so fast after announcing that he'd thought of a way to start helping them connect with the Force. He and Hermione had followed Harry out into the woods. Fred, George and Ginny were already there waiting for them, each sporting a wide grin that only meant no good. Ron was about to ask what was going on, but Harry turned to them and said he knew how they would start training. Ron had felt excitement burst through him as soon as he comprehended Harry's words. He was going to be a Jedi like Harry was now. He'd be able to jump and leap and flip and kick. All those cool moves Harry had shown off sharing the room with him and the twins would be his. And all without a broom, too!

And then this happened…

The rope had snagged as soon as the words had left Harry's mouth. At first Ron had thought it was some weeds brushing against his shoes, and ignored it in favor of paying closer attention to what Harry was saying. Then it tugged, and Ron heard Hermione scream. She was lifted into the air, upside down with a frightened expression on her face. Before he could do anything, he was next! Ron saw Hermione's wand fall as he went belly up. And tried without success to keep his own wand from leaving his pocket. But that had the opposite effect of opening his jeans pocket wide enough to let it slip through his fingers.

The sudden loss of equilibrium was nothing to sniff at. He wasn't so aware of the blood rushing to his head, Ron would have thanked Hermione for giving him the word to perfectly describe how upside down he felt.

"Ha! Heh, heh!" George was doubled over with laughter as Fred lent into him for support. Both were as red as Ron from lack of oxygen. "Harry, mate, remind us to never become Jedi if this is how it's done!"

"It's not the exact way I learned," Harry commented as he sent apologetic smiles up at Ron and Hermione, "But it's quick enough. This is how I first used the Force for myself without Yoda's help in any way. Once you feel it for yourself, you'll never forget it."

"I'll never forget our breakfast if it's about to come back out…" Ron moaned pitifully.

"HARRY JAMES POTTER!" Hermione had finally found her voice again as she tried, with a determined effort, to pull herself up and reach for the confining bonds. Sadly, her core strength was too weak. She could not reach the rope, let alone untie it as she fell back into her hanging position, the grassy green floor of the forest rushing up at her.

"Just relax," Harry advised, "Relax and feel the Force around you. Use the Force to reach your wands."

"Yeah!" Ginny crowed, stifling her fit of giggles, "Use the Force. Or suddenly develop some muscle. Either would be fine!"

"Ginny, be quiet." Harry admonished, but couldn't wipe the smirk from his face.

"Relax, he says… Bloody likely…" Ron mumbled to himself as he felt like a stuffed piñata.

His eyes darted about the forest floor, finally his wand beneath him, now lying a few meters from Hermione's own wand and nearly a full, unattainable meter beyond his grasp. Looking over at his female best friend, Ron saw that she was desperately trying to twist her body, just enough to reach her discarded wand. But it was useless. Ron was beginning to resign himself to his fate as tomato-faced laughingstock when he heard a whisper reach his ears.

But no one was speaking.

And then he felt it. It wasn't his embarrassment or shame, but rather something that trickled into his mind with the presence of soothing hope and guidance. He had felt it not half an hour before, when Harry seemed to stop the world around them in order to ensnare their senses and their minds in the waft of the Force. It was not so dissimilar to magic, but it was certainly different. Ron had grown up around magic all his life, but he had only ever felt magic when it was used on him or against him.

The Force, however… It was different. It had filled him from Harry's use, then left him as if passing through him onto the next best thing. It had felt draining, like the last fleeting moments of a good Cheering Charm.

And now the Force was back, slowly but surely filling him with hope; whispering to him in an almost silent voice that spoke directly to his mind.

 _Ronald_ , it called to him, the whisper almost haunting, yet familiar. _Think of the wand in your hand_. The words made his already aching head throb. Then he felt a sudden resurgence of strength, a feeling of confidence that urged him to continue fighting despite his apparently hopeless situation. His eyes fixed upon the wand. His hand reached out painfully, the drumming blood in his limbs already taking its toll. He squeezed his eyes shut in concentration. But the wand was still beyond his reach. He knew that it would require more than just struggling to reach.

"Gotta relax," Ron told himself, unconsciously mirroring Hermione's actions as she too went through the same experience.

Fred and George were no longer laughing, and Ginny's expression drained of amusement before morphing into one of mystified curiosity. Harry merely stood there with a smug look on his face.

He knew he was cheating a bit. He had helped to calm their emotions after he felt their panic reach a peak. Honestly it was all a little out of left field for him, but he wanted _so badly_ for them to succeed that he didn't see anything wrong with giving them a little extra nudge in the right direction. But at that same moment, he felt a sensation stir within him. One that told him he could help them no longer.

 _Do or do not. There is no try_.

Those had ben Yoda's words, and Harry would listen to the star by which they guided him. Yoda had helped Harry plenty of times, but now Harry saw why Yoda could help him only so much before testing him. This was the moment of truth. Either Ron and Hermione would connect with the Force now on their own, or they would all be back to square one.

And Harry wasn't sure if they had weeks of free time to properly acclimatize them to the Force.

But he could feel it, and that was why his smug grin had yet to falter. Ron and Hermione were feeling it. All they had to do now was reach out and grab it for themselves. He could almost picture himself in their position, banishing any feelings of humiliation for being strung up like a prized pig and simply relaxing like told.

Harry saw Hermione move first after she had divorced worry and shame from her thoughts. She stopped struggling for her wand, her body relaxed and limp, allowing her spirit to be receptive to the Force's suggestion.

And Ron! Already Harry could feel the redhead channeling that energy field generated by all living beings and bound the very universe together. It was coursing through him, and through Hermione as well. They held it within themselves, knowing without previous knowledge that the Force was within them to use as they saw fit.

Two hands went out, and Harry held his breath. It was sloppy, but it was happening! It was honestly _happening_! He could almost see the currents of the Force wrap around the two wands, and with some struggling, float up to the wizard and witch which they belonged. Fred, George, and Ginny looked as if they had seen the impossible. But Harry knew better.

They had seen the Force with their own eyes. And maybe some time ago, he himself had made that same expression upon seeing Yoda use the Force in front of him for the first time, too.

As Ron and Hermione got themselves down, dropping to the grass which Fred and George used Cushioning Charms upon, Harry felt as if he had accomplished something amazing today. Truly it was not his accomplishment, but seeing his friends get something that had taken him a while—and on their first try, no less—filled him with the sort of pride he was sure Professor McGonagall or even Professor Flitwick got whenever a student cast a particularly tricky spell. Harry knew he wasn't a good teacher, far from it. But maybe with their help, he could become a good teacher. And make Yoda proud to have him as an apprentice.

Ron jumped to his feet and helped Hermione recover next to him. The sky was already noticeably brighter, and with the rising sun came the cooler winds. The Force was with Ron and Hermione now, but even that mysterious power could only go so far with individuals so inexperienced.

Harry smiled though. They would get the hang of it. With time and patience.

* * *

The next second, they crowded him as Fred bargained, Ginny begged, and George used flattery to great effect. Harry couldn't help but laugh. And soon Hermione was clamoring for his perceptive on their success, and Ron was egging him on to teach the redhead how to do tricks so they could compete against each another.

But they were all halted when Mr. Weasley came to collect them along with a healthy dose of Percy's prim distain. Mr. Weasley looked amused enough by seeing the way all the others had backed Harry up to a tree like a defenseless animal. However, it was the two wizards that accompanied the two Weasley men that gave pause to the group's active ganging up on Harry.

Ludo Bagman was easily the most noticeable person Harry had seen so far, including old Archie in his flowered nightdress back at the water tap. He was wearing long Quidditch robes in thick horizontal stripes of bright yellow and black. An enormous picture of a wasp was splashed across his chest. He had the look of a powerfully built man gone slightly to seed; the robes were stretched tightly across a large belly he surely had not had in the days when he had played Quidditch for England. His nose was squashed—probably broken by a stray Bludger, Harry thought—but his round blue eyes, short blond hair, and rosy complexion made him look like a very overgrown schoolboy.

The other man could not have made more of a contrast with Ludo Bagman. Barty Crouch was a stiff, upright, elderly man, dressed in an impeccably crisp suit and tie. The parting in his short gray hair was almost unnaturally straight, and his narrow toothbrush mustache looked as though he trimmed it using a slide rule. His shoes were very highly polished, and Harry could see at once why Percy idolized him. Percy was a great believer in rigidly following rules, and Mr. Crouch had complied with the rule about Muggle dressing so thoroughly that he could have passed for a bank manager. Harry doubted even his Uncle Vernon would have spotted him for what he really was. Heck, if Harry showed up to Privet Drive with this man, his uncle might not have even cared what he really was.

"Just as expected, goofing around in the woods," Percy said loudly, making dismissive hand gestures.

"Ahoy there, youngsters!" Bagman called happily, walking as though he had springs attached to the balls of his feet. His excitement was as plain as the wasp on his wasp splashed across his shirt. He puffed as he reached he stopped with them, hand extending to the first person he came in front. This happened to be Hermione. "Ludo Bagman, at your service!"

As Hermione shook hands with Ludo, Harry was being introduced to Barty Crouch by Percy, who Barty let do the talking as he gave Harry a stiff, but firm hand shake.

"And Mr. Crouch speaks over two hundred languages! Mermish and Gobbledegook and Troll—" Percy prattled on with Harry and Mr. Crouch letting him.

"Anyone can speak Troll," Fred said dismissively. "All you have to do is point and grunt."

Percy threw Fred an extremely nasty look.

"What a day, eh? What a day! Could we have asked for more perfect weather? A cloudless night coming, too… And hardly a hiccough in the works!" Ludo Bagman bragged as he shook hands with Ron next. Mr. Weasley shook his head with a helpless look of amusement on his face. He probably thought less of what Ludo was saying, but simply shrugged his shoulders in the end. "Not much for me to do!"

Even Percy gave a polite smile to his boisterous laughter. Apparently his disapproval of the way Ludo Bagman ran his department did not prevent him from maintaining good impressions. Reaching Harry, Ludo did the smallest of double takes when Percy introduced Harry to the man, and his eyes performed the familiar flick upward to the scar on Harry's forehead.

"I don't suppose Mr. Potter here fancies a flutter on the match?" Ludo said eagerly, jingling a large amount of gold in the pockets of his yellow-and-black robes. Behind him, Mr. Weasley was making subtle gestures.

"Well…" Harry started, trying to read the signs Mr. Weasley was making. He was flapping his arms up and down, but mostly down.

"We'll bet thirty-seven Galleons, fifteen Sickles, three Knuts," Fred blurted out as he and George quickly pooled all their money, "that Ireland wins — but Viktor Krum gets the Snitch. Oh and we'll throw in a fake wand and a handful of Ton-Tongue Toffees."

"You don't want to go showing Mr. Bagman rubbish like that—" Percy hissed, but Ludo didn't seem to think the wand was rubbish at all.

On the contrary, his boyish face shone with excitement as he took it from Fred, and when the wand gave a loud squawk and turned into a rubber chicken, the man roared with laughter. He eyed the brightly colored toffees suspiciously, but a wide grin broke out on his face as he at once knew what they'd be.

"Excellent! I haven't seen one that convincing in years! I'd pay five Galleons for that! The joke candy will be another five!"

Percy froze in an attitude of stunned disapproval.

"Boys," Mr. Weasley said under his breath, "I don't want you betting… Is that all your savings…? Your mother will _murder_ me—!"

"Don't be a spoilsport, Arthur!" Ludo Bagman boomed, rattling his pockets excitedly. "They're old enough to know what they want! You reckon Ireland will win, but Krum'll get the Snitch? Not a chance, boys, not a chance… I'll give you excellent odds on that one, though… Let's see… We'll add ten Galleons for the funny wand and sweets…"

Mr. Weasley looked on helplessly as Ludo Bagman whipped out a notebook and quill and began jotting down the twins' names.

"Cheers," George said, taking the slip of parchment Bagman handed him and tucking it away carefully. Bagman turned most cheerfully back to Harry.

"I think I'll match their bet and pull the same." Harry said, producing sack of Galleons from his discarded backpack. "Fifty to the same bet."

Mr. Weasley threw his hands to the heavens.

"Let's see… fifty Galleons on Ireland to win, but Krum with the Snitch as well?" Ludo looked slightly disappointed that Harry was not betting more, but recovered himself quickly enough. "Very well, very well… any other takers?"

"You keep your bloody hooks out of the rest of my children." Mr. Weasley spat without heat as he slid in front of Ludo with a firm look upon his face.

"For the best then!" Ludo gulped as he put away his quill and notebook faster than Harry thought possible. "My Bulgarian opposite number's making difficulties, and I can't understand a word he's saying. Barty'll be able to sort it out."

"Do not involve me in your schemes, Ludo." Were the first words out of Barty Crouch's mouth the entire time they had all been standing around talking. His tone was crisp and there was a bite of annoyance in his voice. Percy, suddenly abandoning his look of stiff disapproval, looked positively overwhelmed with excitement. "You've still not added the twelve seats to the Top Box that the Bulgarians have insisted we accommodate them with."

"Oh is that what they're after?" Ludo feigned surprise very well, but Harry could tell he was fibbing because there was no genuine emotion felt through the Force. "I thought the chap was asking to borrow a pair of tweezers. Bit of a strong accent."

Mr. Crouch looked over at Percy, "Weatherby, if you'd send the notice to the coordinators, I'd be most thankful."

Fred and George choked into their own hands. Percy, very pink around the ears, looked breathless at the acknowledgement of his existence. He sunk into a kind of half-bow that made him look like a hunchback before swiftly drawing his wand and conjuring a note that folded thrice into a bird shape before flying off into the distance.

"Shall we make our way back to the camp?" Mr. Weasley suggested after the paper bird was well out of sight. In the distance, a group of haggard-looking Ministry wizards rushed toward the evidence of some sort of a magical fire that was sending violet sparks twenty feet into the air. Seeing this made Mr. Crouch's mustache bristle, but Ludo's face shone with excitement at the sight.

As they began back toward the Weasley camp, Mr. Weasley turned to Ludo with a sympathetic look. "I expect you'll both be glad when this is over, aye?"

Ludo Bagman looked back at him with genuine shock this time. Harry felt it, and got his foot stepped on when Ludo jumped back and had to catch his balance.

"Glad!? Arthur, mate, I don't know when I've had more fun!" Ludo waggled his eyebrows a little, and nudged Mr. Weasley in the ribs, "Still, it's not as though we haven't got anything to look forward to, eh? Right about that, aren't I? Arthur? Barty? Eh? Plenty left to organize, eh?"

Mr. Crouch raised his eyebrows at Bagman. "We agreed not to make the announcement until all the details—"

"Oh details!" said Bagman, waving the word away. "They've signed, haven't they? They've agreed, haven't they? I bet you anything these kids'll know soon enough anyway. I mean, it's happening _at_ Hogwarts—"

"Merlin's sake, Ludo, have some decorum," Mr. Crouch snapped sharply, cutting Bagman's remarks short. Then he muttered, more to himself than anyone, "Half surprised you aren't rolling around on the ground by now…"

Ludo didn't look offended, even as they all heard the barb. He just kept walking with a spring in his step, the gold in his pockets chinking merrily. "Did that already when I met up with Arthur at his camp." Ludo even stuck his tongue out like a child, making Percy cast a sharp look of distain at his back.

* * *

A sense of excitement seemed to rise through the campsite like a palpable cloud as they reached their tents. The afternoon was fully out with the sun shining, dispelling the last of the fog that had been lingering on with morning.

"Ah, excellent, lunch!" Ludo proclaimed as he happily dug into the offered plate of eggs and sausages Bill and Charlie had prepared for them. Everyone was handed a plate, but only Mr. Crouch and Percy were not eating. Mr. Crouch because he was having a conversation with Bill and Charlie. Percy did not eat simply because Mr. Crouch had yet to even pick up a fork.

"You want to write Yoda?" Hermione asked, putting down her fork to focus fully on her conversation with Harry.

"Yeah," Harry said, rubbing anxiously at the knees of his jeans. He had been thinking about this for a while, especially after Hermione and Ron had proven their ability to connect with and use the Force. "I think if I write him, and let him know what's going on, he'll be able to give me some advice on how to proceed. Or maybe send a book or something on the Force, or the Jedi Order. The way I figure it, if he's been teaching Jedi how to use the Force for over eight hundred years… Well, he's bound to have some kind of teaching method written down."

Hermione considered his words heavily, but what Harry didn't tell her was the other reason he wanted to contact Yoda.

The lightsaber had been a big part of his training. Almost from day one had it been introduced to him, and Harry didn't think his friends would believe him if he didn't have one on hand to show them. He had shown them the Force, but a sword that cut through anything was a little harder to imagine.

"If you write it, I'm sure Mr. Weasley or Percy would be more than happy to send it off for you." Hermione said, nodding to herself as Harry accepted her advice. He spoke to Mr. Weasley next, who indeed agreed to mail away the letter as soon as Harry could compose it.

"Thank you for the meal, Weatherby." He pushed his untouched eggs and sausage back at Percy and waited for Ludo.

Mr. Bagman swigged down the last of his tea, his plate thoroughly licked clean, and gave Percy a happy grin. "Excellent tea, Percy! You'll have to fix my brew again someday!" Percy's face looked stuck between admiration and disgust, but Ludo didn't seem to see any of it as he made his way to Mr. Crouch's side. The two locked arms, looking as different as night and day as Barty Crouch nodded curtly, and both of them Disapparated.

"I thought they'd never leave," George said, then turned to his father with Fred doing the same.

"So what's happening _at_ Hogwarts, Dad?" Fred said at once. "What were they talking about?"

"You'll find out soon enough," Mr. Weasley said, taking the letter Harry had hastily written and charming it to fly to the owlery he knew would be set up and monitored by the Ministry. Mr. Weasley then turned to them all, smiling with such mischief that even Fred and George were a little apprehensive.

"It's classified information, until such time as the Ministry decides to release it," Percy said stiffly. "Mr. Crouch was quite right not to disclose it."

"Oh shut up, _Weatherby_ ," Ginny crowed, nudging her brother playfully.

By dusk, the still summer air itself seemed to be quivering with anticipation, and as darkness spread like a curtain over the thousands of waiting wizards, the last vestiges of pretense disappeared. The Ministry seemed to have bowed to the inevitable and stopped fighting the signs of blatant magic now breaking out everywhere.

And then a deep, booming gong sounded somewhere beyond the woods, and at once, green and red lanterns blazed into life in the trees, lighting a path to the field. They were just finishing through their plates of vegetables and sausages when Mr. Weasley jumped to his feet.

"It's time!" he said, looking as excited as any of them. "Come on, let's go!"


	7. The Worldly Games We Play

**If you have any suggestions for this story, then please feel free to leave them in a Review or a direct PM to me. Here's hoping you're enjoying the story!**

 **Chapter 7: The Worldly Games We Play**

* * *

The life of the daughter took a strange and wonderful turn the day her daddy spoke of Grandmaster Yoda.

She'd had no warning that a moment of such significance was approaching her life. During her nightly meditations, sitting idly on the hardwood floor of her bedroom while folded sheets and towels did her mental bidding— whizzing this way and that as they went about properly arranging themselves— she had seen no visions in the pure, crystal blue of the laser sword that she held like a candle in front of her eyes. Although she had stared until the world vanished and old magic drummed through her in a tidal wave, this particular future had remained closed.

Nothing, therefore, prepared her for the sudden deviation from the day's exercises.

Her daddy was a patient teacher, and also a talkative one. But when it came to embracing old magic, he preferred action to debate, just as he preferred reward to punishment. Never once in all the days they had studied together, with ancient tomes, laser swords, levitation, or confounding, had her father offered a single word of reproach to her education. And that was as it should be, she knew. A teacher's job was not to drag a student along a single, well-worn path. But rather it was to let the student forge his or her own way through the forest, intervening only when the student was hopelessly lost and needed to be corrected.

Even on the wrong paths, her daddy had offered with the wave of his hand, lay some wisdom. What she didn't get on her first try would come little by little with more practice, more patience, and more diligence. Her determination and perseverance would make her stronger in the old ways. It would open her mind to thoughts yet thought, and wisdom yet discovered.

And with their trips to discover new species came opportunities. Many of which she had almost suffered, but they had made her better as well.

Her daddy stood in the doorway of her bedroom. She knew this without even bothering to check with her eyes. Her eyes were deceitful, always showing her only what lay before their mortal sight. She didn't trust them. Even still, her father was there. And was waiting patiently for her meditations to end. It made no difference to him if she remained where she was for four minutes or four days, he would address her when she was back within the mundane world of their physical existence. Not a moment sooner.

Her daddy was ever so polite.

"You are growing more radiant in the way of the ancients, Luna dear." Her daddy complimented with a serene smile upon his face when he saw her stir from her meditations. Seeing him with her eyes, she saw his hands were clasped together in front of him, and he looked deeply pleased by her progress. "You have suppressed me months ago. There is nothing more I can teach you. You now have the glow of your mother. All around you, our ancestors smile."

"Thank you, daddy." Luna was polite in the face of his prideful words.

"There are no thanks needed for what is truth," he held up a hand, and bowed, "When you began, you were but the learner. Now you are the Master. There is but one person left to teach you."

Luna stood at this moment, brushing off her worn jeans as she watched her father more closely now than ever. She prepared herself for this day. He had always made it plain that once she had completed her training with him, she would begin learning from another in more detail. Her connection with the ancient magic of her ancestors was strong, and she could feel the love radiating from her daddy like a visceral heat that warmed every spec of her soul. For a moment that seemed to stretch for years, all she could feel was his love, and it was wonderful.

He closed his eyes, and that love didn't diminution as much as it was gently moved aside for him to focus on something else. Behind his eyelids he foresaw his daughter doing many wonderful things with many wonderful friends. She would have adventures across space and time. But she would also be tested, and darkness marred his vision in those instances. He imagined that he was beside her, always living, always there to keep her safe. Part of him longed to give her that protection from the world. From her destiny.

His precious daughter. The child of his beloved wife.

His lovely little Luna.

"At last, our family's legacy is yours to continue. I sense that the time for the old ways to throw open their closed doors is fast upon us." her daddy was smiling more solemnly now, as if he knew what he said next would hurt her. Not now, but later.

"Love and compassion have become your strengths." He stepped toward her, his arms out, but before Luna could rush forward and hug him tightly, her daddy had retreated with another sad smile. "At last, old magic is your shield and sword. As it was for Merlin, is for you, and shall be for generations after we are gone."

"Until the end of our line." Luna finished with a smile.

"Amen," he graced, and both bowed to one another in a sign of respect for those before them and those who would come afterward.

With a twitch of his hand, her father shut off her laser sword, something she belatedly realized she had left on in her grip the entire time. She smiled up at her daddy, who looked back at her with his own small smirk. His youthful face and blond hair were outlined with orange as the glow of the morning sun shone through the wide window in her bedroom to their right. The features of his face were as familiar to Luna as were the nargles he liked to keep adorned around his head.

"You will go to the Quidditch World Cup," her daddy spoke at once, the gentle authority in his voice something Luna felt she could always draw strength from, "There you will learn from Grandmaster Yoda, the current leader of our ancestral heritage. He will teach you many things, but they will not be easy, daughter."

"Nothing worth doing ever is." She replied, her distracted tone showing that this was the first she ever heard of one who led the old ways. Her father had taught her many things, but never did he share tales about a Grandmaster Yoda.

She wondered briefly if this Yoda would appreciate a gift of some sort in return for her instruction. Perhaps a nice homemade tart or some ginger crisps? Maybe even both…

* * *

Breathing heavily after a punishing round of blows, laser sword lowered in submission, she knelt before her Master and prepared for the killing strike. She could feel the wrath radiating from him like furnace fed fat with chopped wood. For a moment that seemed to stretch for years, all she could hear was the regular, implacable hum of the sword at her neck.

"At last," her Master's smooth and cultured voice purred with a perverse pleasure, "the dark side is your ally."

The young woman didn't dare nod or look up. While others in her station might have been glad for the praise, she was not so stupid. It was a trick, and as soon as she showed even the slightest preening, he would strike her down.

After all, her Master might have been refined, but he was still not the blond elitist that her friend studied under.

The blond elitist would chide her. Her own Master would _kill_ her.

"You were weak when I found you, girl." The voice seemed to come too close to her ear for comfort. She stiffened greatly as she felt a tongue revoltingly caress the outer shell of her ear. The girl, however, did not flinch away from this. It would only enrage her Master more so. "You should never have survived my training."

She closed her eyes, ginger tendrils steady as she remained like stone. Her Master was both pleased at her defiance and furious that he no longer had the pleasure of watching her squirm. She knew his games by now, despite how they still sickened her every day. She had heard these words before. They were the closest thing to a comfort she'd had as his student.

The moral she had taken from them was burned into her mind.

Stay strong and learn… or die weak and pitiful.

Behind her eyelids she pictured again the clean, cleansing heat of the laser sword her Master held. She had brushed her skin against it many times, defying the pain, and taken numerous small wounds while dueling with her mentor. She imagined that she knew what the blade would feel like when it struck her down.

Part of her longed for it.

More of her abhorred it.

The faintly buzzing sword drifted so close to her neck that she could smell her hair burning.

"But now, your hatred has become your strength. _Qotsisajak_ is now your life. Through me, you have gained power. Through me, you have garnered strength."

The sword retreated. With a hiss it disengaged.

Her Master's next words made her heart skip a beat.

"Rise now, my apprentice. Through I, today, have your chains been _broken_."

Apprentice. So she had always thought to herself, but never before had it been said aloud! And that strange motion with the laser sword... Could she possibly have just been knighted? Her own sword retracted, as it was all she could do to balance on knees that felt suddenly made of rubber.

The black shape of her Master's cloak loomed over her. With his back to the only light within their training chamber, his features were dark and unreadable. The shape of his cloaked figure was as familiar to her as the scars on her legs.

But suddenly, disconcertingly, everything seemed different.

The apprentice kept her pale blue eyes up and her voice level. "What is thy bidding, my Master?"

"You have served me well, my sweet. Taken great care of my adversaries. Your training is nearly complete. It is time now to face your first true test."

A roll call of past missions sped through the apprentice's mind. Her Lord and Master had instructed her to dispatch numerous enemies within both the wizarding and muggle worlds. Traitors to the Pureblood cause and forgettable lowly Ministry fools, mainly, with the occasional Unspeakable to close to the truth as well. The flame-haired beauty felt only satisfaction at having fulfilled her duty. Her victims had brought their fates upon themselves. All of them vermin gnawing at her Master's pureblood sensibilities.

But this was different. She could sense it in more than her Master's words. He wasn't talking about some low-life fool. No, her Master had hit wizards that owed favors for that. This was a person of awareness, one with a connection to the forgotten ways of old magic. Yes, the apprentice kept from licking her lips anxiously, there could be only one foe she was worthy to fight now.

"Your spies have located a Jedi?"

"Yes." The word was said with such ecstasy that even the apprentice felt momentarily overtaken by the elation her Master expelled.

"He is young, still but a learner to our ancient ways. My spies felt his presence at the Quidditch World Cup. _However_ ," her Master's voice turned from warm and inviting to cold and harsh, "do not underestimate this boy. My spies have reported him to be strong with the Way of Ashla. He might be new and young, but he is raw and powerful. Sway him to me, but eliminate him if you must."

"As you wish, Master." Excitement filled the apprentice. She had trained and hoped for this moment as long as she could remember. At last it had come. She could never truly call herself a true acolyte to her Master until she had taken the life of one of her Master's traditional enemies. Her friend and competition had slain seven Jedi scum in the name of her blond Master now.

She, herself, has not yet fought even one.

The finer details meant nothing to the apprentice now. It was simple and clear cut from what she was hearing. She would go to the World Cup, find this little fool, and convert him to be another follower to do her Master's bidding.

"He will either join us, or die."

"And should he die," her Master purred as though the thought of dead younglings brought him great pleasure, "You will bring me his lightsaber."

"I'll leave at once, Master." She rose then, and had barely taken a step toward the door when her shoulder was gripped by a predator. His talon-like nails dug into her flesh, and she knew he savored the experience.

After all, she would kill him before he could penetrate her in any other way.

"The Ministry cannot discover you." He said in no uncertain terms.

"As you wish, my Master."

"Get him alone, and leave no witnesses. Kill everyone there if you must, purebloods, blood traitors, and mudbloods alike."

The apprentice nodded, keeping her sudden uncertainty carefully clouded.

"Do not fail in this, my apprentice. Or else…"

"I will not fail you," she said, back straight and voice firm.

Her Master turned away and gripped his hands behind his back. A moment later, he vanished with a faint pop.

Thus dismissed, the apprentice hurried about her latest, darkest duty.

* * *

Mr. Weasley led the way as Harry and the gang clutched at their hats, rosaries, and omnioculars. They all hurried into the wood, following the lantern-lit trail which hadn't been up that afternoon.

Harry could hear the sounds of thousands of people moving around him, shouts and laughter, snatches of singing. The atmosphere of feverish excitement was highly infectious. He simply couldn't stop grinning. He would pay the Weasleys back a thousand fold for this wizarding experience as soon as he thought of a way how.

They walked through the wood for a while, talking and joking loudly amongst themselves, until at last they emerged on the other side and found themselves in the shadow of a gigantic stadium. Though Harry could see only a fraction of the immense gold walls surrounding the field, he could tell that ten cathedrals would fit comfortably inside it.

"Seats a hundred thousand, I'm told," Mr. Weasley said, spotting the awestruck look on Harry and Hermione's faces.

"Ministry task force of five hundred have been working on it all year. Muggle Repelling Charms on every inch of it. Every time Muggles have got anywhere near here all year, they've suddenly remembered urgent appointments and had to dash away again… bless them," he added fondly, leading the way toward the nearest entrance, which was already surrounded by a swarm of shouting witches and wizards.

"Prime seats!" the Ministry witch at the entrance shouted gleefully when she checked their tickets. She threw Mr. Weasley a jealous smile as she handed the tickets back, "Top Box! Straight upstairs, Arthur, and as high as you go."

The stairs into the stadium were carpeted in rich purple. They clambered upward with the rest of the crowd, which slowly filtered away through doors into the stands to their left and right. However, their party kept climbing, and at last they reached the top of the staircase and found themselves in a small box, set at the highest point of the stadium and situated exactly halfway between the golden goal posts. About thirty purple-and-gilt chairs stood in three rows here, and Harry, filing into the front seats with the Weasleys, looked down upon a scene the likes of which he could never have imagined.

A hundred thousand witches and wizards were taking their places in the seats, which rose in levels around the long oval field. Everything was suffused with a mysterious golden light, which seemed to come from the stadium itself. The field looked smooth as velvet from their lofty position. At either end of the field stood three goal hoops, fifty feet high; right opposite them, almost at Harry's eye level, was a gigantic blackboard. Gold writing kept dashing across it as though an invisible giant's hand were scrawling upon the blackboard and then wiping it off again. Watching it, Harry saw that it was flashing advertisements across the field.

Harry tore his eyes away from the sign and looked over his shoulder to see who else was sharing the box with them. So far it was empty, except for a tiny creature sitting in the second from last seat at the end of the row behind them. The creature, whose legs were so short they stuck out in front of it on the chair, was wearing a tea towel draped like a toga, and it had its face hidden in its hands.

Yet those long, bat-like ears were oddly familiar…

"Dobby?" Harry called out incredulously.

The tiny creature looked up and stretched its fingers, revealing enormous brown eyes and a nose the exact size and shape of a large tomato.

It wasn't Dobby — it was, however, unmistakably a house elf, as Harry's friend Dobby had been. Harry had set Dobby free from his old owners, the Malfoy family.

"Did sir just call me Dobby?" the elf squeaked curiously from between its fingers. Its voice was higher even than Dobby's had been, a teeny, quivering squeak of a voice, and Harry suspected — though it was very hard to tell with a house-elf — that this one might just be female.

Ron and Hermione spun around in their seats to look. Though they had heard a lot about Dobby from Harry, they had never actually met him. Even Mr. Weasley looked around in interest.

"Sorry," Harry told the elf, "I just thought you were someone I knew."

"But I knows Dobby too, sir!" the elf squealed. She was shielding her face, as though blinded by light, though the Top Box was not brightly lit. "My name is Winky, sir — and you, sir —"

Her dark brown eyes widened to the size of side plates as they rested upon Harry's scar. "You is surely Harry Potter!"

"Yeah, I am," Harry replied easily enough.

"Oh, but Dobby talks of you all the time, sir!" she said, lowering her hands very slightly and looking awestruck.

"How is he?" Harry asked, feeling slightly anxious to hear about the elf who had caused him such trouble once upon a time only for the noblest of reasons. "How's freedom suiting him?"

"Ah, sir," Winky began, shaking her head, "ah sir, meaning no disrespect, sir, but I is not sure you did Dobby a favor, sir, when you is setting him free."

"Why?" Harry asked, taken aback. "What's wrong with him?"

"Freedom is going to Dobby's head, sir," said Winky sadly. "Ideas above his station, sir. Can't get another position, sir."

"And why not?" Harry asked, leaning over his seat to deepen the conversation. Winky lowered her voice by half an octave and whispered, "He is wanting _pay_ for his work, sir."

"Pay?" Harry echoed blankly. "Well — why shouldn't he be paid?"

Winky looked quite horrified at the idea and closed her fingers slightly so that her face was half-hidden again. "House-elves is not paid, sir!"

"No, no, no. I says to Dobby, I says, go find yourself a nice family and settle down, Dobby. He is getting up to all sorts of high jinks, sir, what is unbecoming to a house-elf. You goes racketing around like this, Dobby, I says, and next thing I hear you's up in front of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, like some common goblin." she said as through her fingers, making her words little more than a series of muffled squeaks. Harry understand the gist of it, though and felt a tremor of worry for Dobby as well.

"Well, we don't want that… But he's allowed a bit of fun, Winky." Harry implored her, but Winky didn't seem to share his thoughts.

"House-elves is not _supposed_ to have fun, Harry Potter, sir," Winky said so firmly from behind her hands that Harry had no trouble understanding this time. "House-elves does what they is told. I is not liking heights at all, Harry Potter—"

Harry caught the way she glanced toward the edge of the box and gulped

"—but my master sends me to the Top Box and I comes, sir."

"Why would he send you up here, if he knows you don't like heights?" Harry asked, his face slowly deepening into a frown.

"Master — master wants me to save him a seat, Harry Potter. He is very busy," Winky explained, tilting her head toward the empty space beside her. "Winky is wishing she is back in master's tent, Harry Potter, but Winky does what she is told. Winky is a good house-elf."

She gave the edge of the box another frightened look and hid her eyes completely again.

Harry smiled at her. Bless her little elf heart. If she couldn't be convinced differently, then Harry decided he would at least make her experience a little less miserable.

"Winky," Harry called to her, and she looked up at him through long, scrawny fingers, "Have you ever heard of an elf by the name of Yoda. You see, he's been—"

"Harry Potter knows of _Yoda_?" Winky looked to be caught between disbelief and awestruck. "Dobby is sharing old house-elf bedtime stories, is he? Knowing Harry Potter is knowing of Yoda warms my heart, it does."

"Bed time stories?" Ron muttered, he and Hermione now tuned into the conversation as they leaned over their own seats. Well, Ron and Harry leaned over their seats, Hermione had politely simply turned and looked through the space between her and Harry's chairs.

"Oh yes," Winky's voice went high with pride at sharing her knowledge with three wizards, one being Harry Potter, "Yoda is known to all good house-elves since the times we was born. Yoda is great elf, far and far away in the homeland of all elf kind. There is his job to whisk all good elves to resting when they is done in life. Uses old magic, Yoda makes it so good elves is living to old years… and bad elves is punished."

Winky's ears then dropped and she looked more panicked than with her fear of heights, "Harry Potter doesn't think _Dobby_ is to punished, right?"

"What kind of punishment would Yoda give him, Winky?" Harry asked, his frown maring his boyish good looks.

"Not Yoda, no!" Winky shook her head frantically, "Shadows of old elf-haters! Yes, they is who the bad elves are taken by! They drag bad elves into the dark place! The dark place!"

"The dark place?' Harry repeated curiosity. He glanced at Hermione, but catching her eye, Harry could tell that even with all her knowledge she didn't have a clue what was going on.

"The dark place where the hateful shadow elves live! They is elves that hate all others, especially other elf kind. They is taking bad elves not protected by Yoda, and making them into just like them! They is turning the skin red, and the eyes yellow, and is making you dark and evil just like they is, Harry Potter!"

"Dobby is a great elf." Harry said so firmly that it had to be true. "In fact, I'll see to it personally that Yoda and Dobby are the best of friends. You have my word."

Winky looked deeply relieved, and even stopped trembling at the height of the top box for several minutes.

Harry and his friends turned back around in their seats. He exchanged another look with Hermione, and then one with Ron.

"Weird little things, these elves, aren't they?" Ron muttered as Hermione reached over and slapped him.

"Dobby was weirder," Harry said fervently.

* * *

"Come on, Ron, stop pouting," Harry said, patting his best friend on the shoulder as they made their way out of the stadium. The attendees were slow to leave, all manner of animated conversation exploding around them as the people spread out through the forest. Harry was sure the wizards would soon either make their way back toward one of the many campgrounds littered throughout the forest, or home where they would rest comfortably now that all the excitement of the game had come to an end. "You're not even a fan of Bulgaria!"

The world cup game had been absolutely amazing. Harry had never seen — never even imagined — such a grand event. The animated fireworks, the loudest cheering he'd ever heard, and a whole city's worth of magical people crammed shoulder to shoulder in the seats of the unbelievably massive stands. The Quidditch players were blisteringly fast, nimble enough to turn at the drop of a dime and nothing more than a blur when flying straight. Harry would've thought that Ron would be upset at the fact that his broom riding idol, the Bulgarian seeker Victor Krum, was all but invisible in his constant speed, having been locked in a perpetual race against the Irish team's seeker since the start of the match for the little golden Snitch, but his freckled friend's awed expression never wavered in the least.

Raucous singing hung over them on the night air as they retraced their steps along the lantern-lit path, and leprechauns kept shooting over their heads, cackling and waving their lanterns. When they finally reached the tents, nobody felt like sleeping at all, and given the level of noise around them, Mr. Weasley agreed that they could all have one last cup of cocoa together before turning in. They were soon arguing enjoyably about the match; Mr. Weasley got drawn into a disagreement about cobbing with Charlie, and it was only when Ginny fell asleep right at the tiny table and spilled hot chocolate all over the floor that Mr. Weasley called a halt to the verbal replays.

"Don't tell your mother you've been gambling," Mr. Weasley implored Fred and George as they all made their way back to their campsite.

"Don't worry, Dad," Fred replied a little too gleefully, "we've got big plans for this money. We don't want it confiscated."

Mr. Weasley looked for a moment as though he was going to ask what these big plans were, but must have thought better of it because he closed his mouth then next second and refused to look at them again as he called out a goodnight to all. Harry watched the man lift Ginny into his surprisingly strong arms and head out to the next tent with Hermione right behind him. Harry and the rest of the Weasleys changed into pajamas, but still were not going to bed just yet.

"Oh, I am glad it's not me on duty tonight," Mr. Weasley muttered sleepily. "I wouldn't fancy having to go and tell the Irish they've got to stop celebrating."

After that quip, Harry and the younger Weasleys watched him clamber toward the back of the tent where their bunks were located. Harry turned back to the others, and they in turn looked back at him as they continued their night.

"Back to what I was saying," Ron went on, his hands thumping on the table only after they had vanished the cocoa Ginny had split. "I still say Ireland wasn't playing fair. All those calls against Bulgarians was a little fishy."

"I'd say Ireland played more than fair," Charlie sniffed, his arms stretching over head as he tried his best to suppress a yawn. "The Bulgarians may play things to a certain degree in their games back home, but that doesn't mean everyone in Quidditch eats lead for fiber. Some players have glass chins, and the Bulgarians were reminded today that there are rules they need to abide by."

"Even still, it was a little unfair." Harry interjected his own opinion, drawing circles on the table, "I know that we do a lot of those moves and shoves at school, and never get called for it. If any of us have dreams of playing professionally, shouldn't we be treated the same?"

"Yes," Bill agreed, "and tonight reminds us all that when the World Cup is on the line, those rules aren't insignificant nuisances to be overlooked. If you want the prize, know the boundaries of the game."

"Agreed," Fred yipped, jangling his and George's money bag with great glee. "All hail the Bulgarian brutes for being a bunch of mouth-breathing, knuckle-draggers!"

"There, there!" George raised his cup of cocoa and clanked it happily against Fred's quickly picked up one.

Ron rose from his spot at the table, "I'm with Harry on this one. Bulgaria might have been rough, but Quidditch isn't played on the grass with a pygmy-puff for a ball. It's played in the air, and people get knocked off their brooms lots of times. I'm not saying Ireland didn't earn their victory, because obviously they did. I'm just saying I was hoping for a lot more out of all the players."

"Sorry you didn't get to take home a souvenir tooth from Krum." Everyone laughed at that one, and Ron went as red as his hair while stocking out the tent, muttering about needing the loo. Harry, still imagining the scene of Ron putting one of Krum's teeth under his pillow, quickly followed after his friend after grabbing their jackets and wands.

"Can you believe that lot?" Ron complained, no longer embarrassed, but indignant, "Like I'd want some guy's tooth under my pillow or something! The nerve!"

From the other side of the campsite they could still hear much singing and the odd echoing bang.

"You do like Krum a lot though." Harry pointed out, but Ron trudged on without remorse.

"Only because he's so _young_! Not even out of school, and already he plays for a national team! He helped carry his team to the Quidditch World Cup!" Ron defended, but regretted nothing.

"Yeah, and it's really impressive." Harry agreed.

They passed different groups of people hurrying in different directions. As they jostled their way through a crowd of confused French men mumbling apologizes, Ron suddenly grabbed Harry's arm. "He kind of makes me think of you…" Ron admitted quietly, making Harry jerk in surprise.

"Me?" Harry echoed lamely, too blindsided for any quick-witted response.

"Yeah, you." Ron sighed, seeing that he would have to be a lot more open about his thought process than he hoped. "You're already a great Seeker, and a great wizard. You could be just like Krum. Or Dumbledore. You could be a genius… and maybe it's me that's holding you—"

"You are _never_ holding me back, Ron." Harry snapped before Ron could even finish. "I make my own life. I do my own thing, at my own time. And you're my best friend. If I thought for even a second you would hold me back, I'd be the first to pick you up and carry you to the top of the crop with me."

The blush on Ron's face was very different than his embarrassed one. It was almost invisible in the dark of the night, but Harry would swear he more than saw the blush — he felt the heat of it as Ron still had a hold of his arm. Harry smiled, then slung the arm Ron was holding around his friend's shoulder.

"I think Hermione's rubbing off on you, mate." Ron said as they continued toward the commodes. "She said something like that before you came to the Burrow. Said she was gonna make me s-study with her."

Even Harry could understand how scary that idea was. Hermione didn't just study, she immersed herself in a world of notes and charts. Harry was not looking forward to whatever she came up with once they started on their Jedi training.

"Well, it can't hurt you to be a little more interested in her interests… and her, in general." Harry said, watching as Ron gave him a funny look.

"You think?" Ron's voice went a pitch higher, as though Harry had caught him in a lie.

"Yeah, yeah," Harry breathed, hopefully as casually as he thought he did. "There's definitely something there. You just need to… _study_ it more. Loads more."

Ron bit his lip. "Oh, all right then," he snapped, shoving Harry away from him playfully. "But Fred and George better not hear about any of this."

Harry laughed at Ron's sibling constraints while the redhead slipped into the public restrooms. Harry waited outside for Ron to come out, feeling good about the world around him as though everything were going right.

Then he felt as though everything were _wrong_ …

Standing out in front the restrooms, it was a little darker than Harry would have liked, but even still it was not enough to make him uneasy.

Especially not enough to make him feel what he was feeling. At first, Harry would chalk it up to the fact that it was night and all manner of strangers were around him with the festivities finally winding down. It was similar to the uncomfortable feelings he got two years ago during his first and only time walking through Knockturne Alley.

No, this was a different kind of sensation. It was more in the Force, than in Harry's stomach alone.

Harry clinched one of his hands into a fist, as well as his jaw; ready for whatever it was that was in that was out there. Just as his other hand was reaching into his back pocket for his wand, Harry glanced at the restrooms.

Ron…

Harry would never put Ron in trouble if he could help it. Sure, Ron had been in a lot of bad situations with him, but those had all been unavoidable. Now, with the Force as his alley and his wand at the ready, Harry felt confident he could handle any problem himself.

Ducking down, Harry swiftly joined a group of slurring Irish singers going one way, slipped through a couple of trees, and hurried off toward where he felt the wrong feelings emanating. He had just reached the foot of a hill when he felt a hand on his shoulder.

"Stupefy!" Harry cast, a red light flying from his wand as he jumped up the hill in panic.

"Protego!" Ron hissed, twisting to the side as the Stunning spell clamored against his hastily conjured Shield charm. Peering up the hill through the faint moonlight, Ron gave Harry the most serious look he had seen on the redhead's face since the time they had discovered who and what Scabbers truly was. "Bloody hell, Harry. Bloody hell."

"Sorry," Harry apologized quickly, meeting Ron halfway on the hill as they ignored his Force-enhanced leap for the moment. "I thought you were using the loo."

"For a quick piss!" Ron said, then crossed his arms, "Didn't think I was so bad you'd sneak off from me, and then attack me!"

"It's not your bathroom habits that made me leave," Harry countered with a quick look at Ron's hands, "But I really do hope you flushed the toilet and washed your hands."

"I did!" Ron defended, being loud, "It's what took me so long to catch up to you."

"Good." Harry was actually glad, especially since Ron had touched his neck when he had sneakily reached him earlier.

"Why are you out here, then?" Ron asked, his face serious again.

"Can't you feel it?" Harry asked since he had helped Ron open himself to the Force.

"Feel what?" Ron asked, so apparently he needed much more training. It was too good for Harry to have hoped, it seemed.

"There's a feeling in the air. Like someone is watching us… and it feels wrong." Harry whispered.

"Well, let's do something about it." Ron said as he sent Harry an encouraging look.

Quietly as possible, they crept along the hill, not going over it, but instead going around it.

...and there she stood.

No one else was around in the fairly clear hillside. Nor was there much light, either!

She was wearing a long, black cloak with her hood drawn over her head and hair, hiding all but her red painted lips and delicate chin from sight. The rest of her attire was all black. The only person Harry had seen wear so much black was Professor Snape, and seeing it on someone else was both kind of strange and creepy.

Harry felt uneasy about facing this girl — _woman_?— as he felt she was definitely threatening even with being shorter and smaller than both him and Ron. However, even with her features hidden from his sight, Harry felt in the back of his mind that she was athletic and held much strength behind her petite figure. And her eyes! Even despite the fact that Harry could not see them, he could feel them drinking in every inch of him and Ron as they smothered with much pleasure and anticipation.

Just what in the name of Merlin was this woman?

"Hello, Harry Potter," the darkly clad woman's voice came out from where she stood opposite them along the hill.

Harry, understandably, said nothing. He did observe an accent on her from the way she pronounced his name, though he couldn't place its origins.

The woman breathed out a slight laughter, her eyes now fixed on Ron in a way many would call unnatural. "Oh my, oh my… you brought a little friend with you. How very sweet."

"Who the bloody hell are you?" Ron demanded, his wand out again and trained on the woman. Her presence didn't even shift. Not a flicker of fear or even a start. It was like she didn't even know he had drawn his wand.

Or maybe, Harry realized with horror, perhaps it was they who didn't even know what they were up against…

"You don't have anything to worry about with me, Ronald Weasley…" just saying Ron's name sent shivers up their spines, and for all the wrong reasons. Oh yes, she was certainly dangerous. This Harry knew now with absolute certainty. "…in fact, I came to warn Harry Potter."

Now Harry's slight fear was mixed in with confusion. He reached into his back pocket, and grasped his wand firmly, yet did not drawn it.

"What are you, some kind of spy? How do you know who I am?" Ron demanded again, and if this were a less tense situation, Harry might have rolled his eyes. Because everyone in the world knew Harry Potter, but not his best friend Ron Weasley.

"I believe you call it common sense… Red hair, freckles, hand-me-down clothes. You get the point." she said with absolutely no humor or mocking in her tone. This was not at all like what Draco Malfoy would have done. Harry and Ron exchanged a look as they found her very frank manner odd.

"If you're so concerned about me, and trying to warn me about something, why are you the one hiding in the shadow of a hill." Harry put to her with more assurance, after seeing it was apparent she was not going to do any harm to him. Yet and still, the feeling of wrong was still knotting in his stomach. "The last person who wanted to warn me against something appeared right in my bedroom."

"Let's be honest, Harry Potter, had I suddenly appeared in your home, or even when you first arrived here, then how much would you like that? Hmm? Girl turning up in your bedroom out of nowhere?"

"Let us see your face, and he'll be able to answer that question better." Ron growled, his joke lost in all the tension mounting in his shoulders. Harry dimly became aware that Ron was inching ever so slightly in front of him for a clear shot at the woman, and to protect Harry.

"Oh, ho, ho!" the woman's tone was sultry and alluring, "You naughty boys. Careful that you _behave_."

Harry did not like the way she sexily whispered that last word, as though they were her playthings. She gave a knowing look to his thoughts, and Harry forced himself to breath and centered himself. She was different than anyone he had encountered so far, so maybe the Force would be a little more useful than magic at the moment. He could do a lot more with the Force than with magic at the moment. It wasn't like this woman was a Dementor, and he didn't have the Sword of Gryffindor handy.

"Let's start with your name then," Harry said calmly, drawing the Force into him in order to steady his fear and fill him with confidence. His stance shifted ever so slightly, and he noticed the dark clad woman observe this with her own shift from amused to cautious. "You know both of us, but I don't know you."

"Neither do I," Ron interjected with a grunt. He had never stopped pointing his wand at the woman, and a slight night breeze passed through them from over the hill.

She smiled, her red lipstick unnaturally even and perfect over her stainless white teeth.

"You may call me Miss Eleanor Columbus." The woman gave a slight curtsy with her cloak, but Harry and Ron scowled at her in unison.

"You're not very good at lying." Harry said pointedly, his eyes narrowed at the woman.

"Perhaps I am not." Her smile grew in size and vicious glee, "And perhaps I need more training. Or perhaps… you need to learn to — DODGE!"

"Ron move!" Harry shouted quickly, shoving his friend to the ground with him as a blood red light whirled through the air, and sliced through where they had once been before it swept around and flew back into the mysterious Eleanor Columbus's hand.

Though when she looked down, she frowned deeply as both Harry Potter and Ron Weasley were gone from sight. She had seen them tumble to the ground, then roll off into the shadows of the hillside, but from there they had vanished into the shadow of the darkened overhang, out of sight. Eleanor paced the area like a cat, seeking the boys out; but she wouldn't enter the shadows of the overhang.

"You are strong with the Way, Harry Potter." She announced into the darkness of the hillside, using her crimson blade to illuminate what she could, "But you are raw and unknowledgeable. This is what I have come to warn you of. And to answer your earlier question; No, I am not a spy. I do not work for any Ministry or business. I simply come as a potential friend and ally."

"You sure have a hell of a way of picking friends, lady!" Ron's voice shouted in all directions around her. She was sure it was the work of a spell he or Harry had cast, but could not place it. She gave the darkness around her an appraising look.

"You've got our attention," Harry's disembodied voice said more calmly than Ron, "but as I've told someone before you, I can choose my friends for myself, thank you."

"That may be, however, there are those that would mislead you. Start you on a path that would only confide the power you have stepped into. Join me, Harry Potter, and I will show you the Way of Bogan as my master has instructed me to follow on my path. The _right_ path."

"I think you've heard this dung before, Harry." Eleanor gave a piercing look into the darkness.

"I'm sure I have. Though last time the person didn't have a master to serve, and I don't know of any Bogan." Harry's voice sounded in the other direction, making Eleanor cast her vision that way. "Sorry to say it, but Voldemort has already offered. And I declined."

"Voldemort is but a delay at least and a contender at best to the plans my master has in store. Together, you and my teacher can crush Voldemort with little effort. Let my master and I show you the Way to power."

"I will never join you or this teacher of yours. You've been giving me a bad feeling this entire time, and nothing you've said so far has made me feel any differently about trusting you. And I trust _my instincts_ above all."

"That is fine. I can see where my approach has been a little forward and unsettling. Perhaps, even, a little too heavy handed," Eleanor admitted in a softer, kinder tone. Then her tone shifted to something far more dark and cruel, "However, if I cannot convince you to trust in me, then you will be compelled to obey."

And again in one smooth motion, Eleanor threw her crimson saber into the darkness just beyond the hillside where a patch of trees obscured the campsite lights beyond them. The blood red light of the laser sword illuminated a bespectacled face one moment, then bounced back with the reverberating sound of having struck an invisible wall the next. Just over the hilltop, Ron held his wand aimed at Harry, having fired some manner of spell or charm that sent Elenamor's lightsaber back her way where she recalled it into her grasp with but a thought.

When it was all over, Harry was beside Ron on the hilltop, his own wand now out and aimed threatening at her heart.

And with a razor-sharp smile, she knew it was aimed expressly at her heart.

"Yes, my master was right to not underestimate you." She said, her smile never wavering on her face, "You are strong in the Way, but you and Ronald are no match for me. You would be a pawn in the hands of the Je'daii. But with us, you would be an equal! We would show you the Way of the Sith'ari. Your power would become your strength. Qotsisajak would become your life. Through me, you will gain more power. Through me, you will garner strength."

She smiled as though a demon lay behind the ruby lipstick, "Only through me can your chains finally be broken."

Harry was honestly getting tired of people telling him what to do, and how they held all the answers to life.

He stood in front of Ron, above the woman Eleanor— which _obviously_ was not her real name— atop the hill. Here, Harry felt heady with his own power. It was in his hands, now, he knew it was: he could take this woman. Take her blade and shut her up. With his wand, with the Force, with his bare hands.

Yes. Harry centered himself on the feeling of power coursing through his veins as he felt the feeling of wrongness in the pit of his stomach turn into something to be glorified. She was wrong, and he was right. He engorged himself with this thought, felt its strength tingle his cheeks. It made him feverish, this thought, which was so overpowering as to totally obliterate all other considerations.

He had the power; the choice was his.

And then another thought emerged, slowly compulsive as an ardent lover: he could destroy Voldemort, too. Destroy them both. Destroy them all! He could be the true savoir, eradicating those that served darkness and evil. He could be Minister of Magic, and make it so no one like Voldemort or Eleanor ever existed again.

Eleanor watched Harry Potter open himself to old magic. And as soon as he did, she spread the darkness in her heart all around them, watching with wicked glee as he soaked up the power of her evil like a mighty sponge. His own inner darkness unlocked, little by little, until even the clueless redhead sidekick behind him could feel the change in the boy.

Then it changed. She was not sure why, but the glee in her stomach soon turned to wrongness. For the first time since the start of their encounter, the thought entered Eleanor's consciousness that Harry Potter, as fresh and uneducated as he was, might best her. When he looked down at her, she was astounded by the strength she saw in him with sight beyond sight.

He had been trained, this much she could now sense. Not learned by much, but the boy had a few lessons under his belt. This was an unexpected circumstance her Master had not seen fit to warn her of when she left his presence.

Unexpected and _unwelcome._

Eleanor felt humiliation crawling in on the tail of her first reaction, which was surprise, and her second, which was fear. And then the edge of the humiliation curled up, to reveal bald anger.

And now she wanted revenge on Harry Potter making her feel — for even a _second_ — that he would ever defeat the likes of her!

These things were mirrored, each facet, by Harry Potter who now towered above her.

Holding this — this _power_ — so close to his heart and mind, was amazing. It was a profound moment for Harry. Dizzying. Yet he did not swoon. Nor did he recoil. He took one step forward.

He could rule the world!

And in that, he faltered for a moment. Then realized what was happening. He was suddenly confused again. What did he want? What should he do? His brief exultation, his microsecond of dark clarity — gone, now, in a wash of indecision, veiled enigma.

Cold awakening from a passionate flirtation.

Harry took a step back and lowered his wand. He relaxed as he released the power that was whirling inside his heart and mind, trying hard to drive the hatred from his being.

For that is what it was — hatred. Hatred for the darkness. Hatred for evil. Hatred for what he, himself, could fall and become.

" _Y-Yoda… Failed you, I have_ …" Harry thought to himself with all the shame and humiliation of the world. He hung his head.

In that instant, Eleanor attacked. She lunged half up the hill, forcing Harry and Ron to reverse defensively as they drew their wands up and fired Stunning spells and jinxes at her. She resisted them with her crimson saber, each ray of light being absorbed harmless into the blade made of pure energy. As soon as she was within swinging distance, she struck, but Ron moved a hair's breadth faster as he conjured up another shield charm. Her laser sword rebound off the magic charm, making her recoil as Harry leaped over her and fired a Stunner at her back. She hissed like a wounded animal, and twisted toward him, but he was already leaping again to safety while Ron was sliding down the hill at her other side.

Harry landed on a tree branch, balancing precariously on it as though an extra ounce would snap it in twain. Eleanor jumped over the hill to the ground beside the tree, and watched with glee as her saber sliced through the narrow trunk with little effort. Harry's eyes widened, but he was moving again, like a trained zoo monkey to another tree, one which he grabbed the branch and then another as he swung away from the dark female. Eleanor growled after him, completely erasing the redhead Weasley from her mind as Potter was escaping her grasp.

He would join her and her master, or he would _die_!

It was the last thing he wanted to do, but what choice did he have? Wheeling around, Harry watched as the red saber of his adversary chased after him the moment he dropped to the ground and began to run faraway from where the other campers were.

He knew the power of a lightsaber. Magic or not, one wrong move would have an innocent witch or wizard permanently disfigured.

And Harry cursed all his luck. He would trade all the gold in Gringotts for a handy lightsaber right now.

"Hello, my fellow Je'daii Journeyer." Harry whipped around to his front in surprise, eyes bulging behind his glasses, "May the light of Ashla's Way be with you and your bloodline forever. As it was in the beginning, is now, and should be until the end of time. Amen."

"Uh… Uh… What?" was all the reply Harry could give as he was trapped between two women now.

* * *

 **If you have any suggestions for this story, then please feel free to leave them in a Review or a direct PM to me. Here's hoping you're enjoying the story!**

 **-Traban16**


	8. The Darkness of Eleanor Columbus

**A/N: Hey everyone, sorry for the delay, but I'm back! And I'm weirder than ever!** **Be on the lookout for many more stories to come! Stand guard for more craziness! Keep an ear to the ground for more chapters to old favorites!** **And everyone get ready to get FUNKY!**

 **Anyways, enough with all this crap!** **On With The Show!**

 **Chapter 8: The Darkness of Eleanor Columbus**

* * *

Eleanor could cut a perfect freehand circle into any surface, a feat said to be the hallmark of a gifted artist. As she rotated her crimson saber in a flourish meant to intimidate the fleeing Harry Potter, she entertained the thought of carving out Potter's heart in such an artistic fashion.

It would be bloody brilliant, after all…

Eleanor snarled as when she looked ahead of herself, there appeared to be no sign of the Potter boy anywhere.

There was, however, a blonde bimbo meditating on the forest floor a dozen meters ahead of her, though.

Eleanor searched around her to see if Harry Potter was somewhere above in the canopy, waiting to leap from an upper tree branch. But there was nothing.

"You are dark with the way of Bogan," the blonde stated plaintively as if Eleanor were diagnosed with a terminal illness. "A violent plague on the world which I must defend. The way of Ashla's light will bring back balance to your soul… and hopefully cleanse you of your darkness."

Ugh, Eleanor groaned in disgust and hatred. This one was a true Je'daii apprentice, probably taught the stupidity of Ashla since before she could remember.

Just as Eleanor herself was taught the power of Bogan since she was four years old.

"Where is Potter, you filthy Je'daii scum!" Eleanor knew that playing innocent, or attempting seduction would not work on someone so obviously trained. So she fell back on her anger and hatred for Ashla's light to empower her further in the dark of her heart.

"I cannot say," the blonde answered in a dreamy tone, as though half asleep now. She slowly rose from the floor, and in the blink of an eye the blonde had ignited a blue lightsaber that Elenaor had not seen her with before. The bimbo held it in a loose one-handed grip to her side before slowly prowling in a circle around Eleanor.

Eleanor growled in response. This would be her first ever encounter with an actual Je'daii. Potter was not yet a Je'daii, so he did not count.

This blonde tart, though…

As their gazes locked, Eleanor felt no pity for what she was about to do to the blonde; nobody raised under the brutal hand of her Master could even think about affording that level of emotion. He had forced her to learn to shut down just to cope with her training. It was excellent training, had she known it at the time.

But even still, Potter was a hero and a man, through and through. He would not have left this blonde woman to fight his battles for him, especially with his reputation for heroics.

And even more when the girl would die in his place.

Potter would be here. Eleanor grinned in assurance.

"Where are you, Potter?" Eleanor called out to the woods. "Or would you rather let a novice do your dirty work for you? One of the Je'daii handy career tips, if I should guess."

The blonde scowled as if she'd been snubbed. "You are fighting me. The hands of many lighten the work of one. Prepare yourself, Miss… Miss…? Actually, I never got a name from you…. Would you mind?"

"You may call me Eleanor, girl." Eleanor sneered, "And yourself? I should know the name of the head I'll be taking back to my Master."

"I am Luna Lovegood, Miss Eleanor." Luna stopped stalking for a second to give a humble bow of recognition. Then she twirled her saber to catch the tip of her opponent's crimson saber as Eleanor had come within striking distance just that quickly. "And I am not to be underestimated."

Harry watched the fight begin from above, high in the trees where Luna had used the Force to throw him. Luna dropped low when Eleanor decided to run her saber up the length of Luna's cerulean blade. She slid under Eleanor's guard. Or so she seemed to think, anyway. It appeared a simple matter for Eleanor to leap backward to avoid the sweep across her legs. Luna spun on her back and was up on her feet again, racing wide to attack again from the rear, making Eleanor pirouette to keep her in view. Blades clashed in parry and thrust. And even in the heat of battle, Eleanor appeared to keep at least some of her focus out for him to come crashing to Luna's rescue.

But he didn't appear.

He couldn't appear.

He didn't have a lightsaber. He didn't have Yoda with him for advice. The Force was murky with Eleanor's darkness, so he could barely keep his focus on it now.

 _The here and now_ … _focus_ … _Let the Force come to you_ … _not the other way around_ …

Harry closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He could barely hear Qui-Gon, but he heard him all the same. He was right. The Force came from everything, not just within his own perception. He needed time to focus, to draw in the energy of the universe. To steady his mind on the present.

He was letting his doubt and nervousness cloud his ability to feel the Force as it truly was. As he truly was. He had more than just the Force at his disposal. He had magic and training few others could boast.

He was more than just wizard or Jedi, the Force or magic—he was Harry Potter.

Now, forty-five seconds into the duel—and these matters never lasted long, she found—Eleanor was impatient, and had seen most of Luna's basic technique; a combination of rapid switches and feints, darting from one side of the battle ground to the other.

 _As if to exhaust me_ , Eleanor sneered in disgust. _Trying to exhaust me enough before darting in to deliver the fatal blow_.

It was very pathetic.

Eleanor countered by making Luna come to her, not by evading or even pursuing her. At one point, she stood still, blood-red blade held to one side with her body exposed, to tempt the blonde into a fatal error. The blonde sow moved in cautiously. As she lunged, Eleanor decided Potter would not be lured into showing himself, and whipped Luna's blue saber from her hand with a figure-eight movement before slamming her flat against a tree with a blast of magical power and holding her there with an outstretched hand.

"Where is Potter?" Eleanor put the point of her crimson saber at Luna's neck. The blonde squirmed, trying to wretch free of the magical bind holding her in place.

"He's probably long away from here by now… He did seem much faster than you."

Eleanor scowled at the red light making shadows on Luna's delicate face. "I can start lopping off body parts, Potter. It's your call!"

The trees around them swayed for a fraction, more so from something ethereal than wind. The dark-haired woman felt a faint tingle deep behind her eyes.

Ah, he was somewhere in the neighborhood now.

She smiled darkly into the crimson light as she inched her saber another hair's breadth toward the blonde's throat.

Eleanor felt a rush of air accompanied by a steady buzz. She'd been here long enough to begin to get used to the feeling of magic on the air, but at the moment the feeling made her wary. She raised her eyes without moving her head, just to note where the feeling was coming from.

It was then that it hit her square in the back—something very heavy, very fast, and blunt, a shadow that punched into her like a train.

She pitched forward, winded, and almost put a hole through Lovegood's pretty little neck as she fell. Luna had moved just in the nick of time, though, as the saber's edge burned through the tree right behind her almost up to its hilt. The dark beauty rolled and was on her feet again in an instant, ready to fight, but in that same moment the blonde bimbo had also rolled clear and recovered her burning blue blade with a stray thought. However, that was irrelevant in the instant as Eleanor realized that it had not been Potter's hand in the attack to her back, but instead it had been Lovegood. Somehow, even under duress, Lovegood had still possessed the presence of mind to summon her magic to her and use it to control a nearby log which she aimed with great accuracy at Eleanor's exposed weakness.

It made the dark-haired young woman furious.

"Now then, Sith'ari acolyte," Luna said, this time with a slight edge to her dreamy tones, "shall we try that again?" The blonde spun her saber through the air a single time, but this time held herself high and kept her stance firm.

She was now ready for a fight, not just a dance.

Eleanor grinned.

They were both ready for the fight this time.

* * *

Ron ran with all the speed his long legs could muster. Try as he might, he still couldn't get the image of that glowing red sword out of his head. It had cut through trees like a hot knife through butter. It lit up the darkness like a bloody massacre given form.

And worse of all, Ron thought to himself with a cold bead of sweat going down his neck, it had felt alive with evil… The same evil that the fake-named Eleanor Columbus had possessed, almost like it was an extension of her own inner darkness…

Ron shuddered and tried to run faster, his heart racing and his breathing shallow.

But when he arrived back at the campsite, he could see people running away into the woods in all directions, fleeing something that was moving across the field through the campsite, something that was emitting odd flashes of light and noises like gunfire. Loud jeering, roars of laughter, and drunken yells were drifting toward them; then came a burst of strong green light, which illuminated the scene.

A crowd of wizards, tightly packed and moving together with wands pointing straight upward, was marching slowly across the field.

Ron skidded to a stop just within the tree line as he fished his wand from his jean's pocket. The redhead squinted at the approaching wizards… They didn't seem to have faces he could see… Then he realized that their heads were hooded and their faces masked.

High above them, floating along in midair, four struggling figures were being contorted into grotesque shapes. It was as though the masked wizards on the ground were puppeteers, and the people above them were marionettes operated by invisible strings that rose from the wands into the air. Two of the figures were very small. More wizards were joining the marching group, laughing and pointing up at the floating bodies. Tents crumpled and fell as the marching crowd swelled. Once or twice Ron saw one of the marchers blast a tent out of his way with his wand. Several caught fire. The screaming grew louder. The floating people were suddenly illuminated as they passed over a burning tent and Ron recognized one of them as Mr. Roberts, the campsite manager. The other three looked as though they might be his wife and children. Ron felt hot anger for them as one of the marchers below flipped Mrs. Roberts upside down with his wand; her nightdress fell down to reveal her undergarments and she struggled to cover herself up as the crowd below her screeched and hooted with glee.

Ron gripped his wand tight in fury.

"Those bastards!" Ron muttered to himself, watching the smallest Muggle child, who had begun to spin like a top, sixty feet above the ground, his head flopping limply from side to side. "If I didn't have to help Harry, I would—"

"There he is!" a voice yelled through the screams and laughter. Ron's head shot up as he saw a shadowy bush pointing wildly at him as some of the fire light illuminated him in the trees. "There he is! Ron! RON! _RON_!"

And then he realized that the pointing bush was Hermione and behind her was Ginny as they stayed low and snuck around the jeering wizards causing trouble.

Hermione and Ginny came hurried toward him, pulling coats over their nightdresses, with his dad right behind them. At the same moment, Bill, Charlie, and Percy emerged from the boys' tent, fully dressed, with their sleeves rolled up and their wands out.

"Where is Harry!?" Ron had never seen his dad so panicked or alert. He grabbed Ron by the shoulders, giving him a quick once over. Then he stared at Ron hard, as though one of his own sons had gone missing.

But Ron could hardly fault his dad—Harry was like a brother to him.

"He's fighting in the woods!" Ron yelled over the scores of people now running in the direction he had come from. They scattered after reaching the trees though, moving in every direction that wasn't on fire. "Some girl attacked us after trying to get to Harry through dark magic! He sent me to find help!"

"Go back to him, then! We're got to help the Ministry!" Mr. Weasley shouted over all the noise, rolling up his own sleeves. "You lot—get into the woods, and stick together when you find Harry. Help him fight, but get away quickly! I'll come and fetch you when we've sorted this out! Just shoot some Gryffindor sparks into the air! NOW GO, ALL OF YOU!"

Over his dad's shoulder, Ron could see that Bill, Charlie, and Percy were already sprinting away toward the oncoming marchers. His dad gave him one more look, the type that told him he was in charge for the moment before he tore after his older brothers. Ministry wizards were dashing from every direction toward the source of the trouble. The crowd beneath the Roberts family was coming ever closer.

"C'mon," Ron said as he saw Fred grabbing Ginny's hand and start to pull her toward the wood. "Harry is this way! This way!" Fred, Ginny, Hermione, and George followed him without question. They all looked back as they reached the trees. The crowd beneath the Roberts family was larger than ever; they could see the Ministry wizards trying to get through it to the hooded wizards in the center, but they were having great difficulty. It looked as though they were scared to perform any spell that might make the Roberts family fall.

The colored lanterns that had lit the path to the stadium had been extinguished. Dark figures were blundering through the trees; children were crying; anxious shouts and panicked voices were reverberating around them in the cold night air. Ron felt himself being pushed hither and thither by people whose faces he could not see. Then he fell face first over something in the dark, and yelped in pain.

"What happened?" Hermione asked anxiously, stopping so abruptly that Fred walked into her. "Ron, where are you? Oh this is stupid— _Lumos_!" She illuminated her wand and directed its narrow beam across the path. Ron felt his face throb with blood and pain as he was lying sprawled on the ground.

"Tripped over a tree root is all," he said angrily, getting to his feet again.

"Well, with feet that size, hard not to," a drawling voice said from behind them.

Ron and Hermione turned sharply.

Draco Malfoy was standing alone nearby, leaning against a tree, looking utterly relaxed.

* * *

Like a charging centaur, the dark-haired Eleanor came on, her crimson laser sword ready to cut Luna in half. Luna regarded her calmly, smiling as if the entire duel were only a dream.

Eleanor didn't catch the cue. Her rage moved her along, as it had before. But things were different this time as Luna's hand shot out toward the charging Sith'ari woman, sending forth a Force push as solid as any stone wall. Eleanor managed to hold onto her saber as she went up into the air, held there by the power of the blond Je'daii lady. With a wave of her hand, Luna sent the dark-haired woman flying across the woods, to crash into a distant tree, where she slumped down, dazed.

"Surrender, Miss Columbus. As you can see, the light of Ashla is bright within me, and it makes my magic strong. I have you outmatched." Luna said with complete confidence and calm.

"I don't think so, Je'daii scum." Eleanor countered, rising up from her prone position. Her eyes were narrowed and blazing with unbridled fury. She moved toward the blonde in a more measured and defensive manner, her saber held across her body diagonally, up over one shoulder.

Eleanor stepped slowly at first, then came on in a sudden rush, her red-glowing blade coming in hard, right to left. But with only a slight movement, the blue blade stabbed under the red, then lifted up, and Eleanor's blade went flying harmlessly high off the mark. With a slight reversal of her wrist, Eleanor spun her saber's hilt in her hand, making the crimson laser sword come down before she stabbed straight ahead. Luna's eyes widened in the light of the red sword, and she had to throw herself backward. The blonde brought her saber across as she did, trying to parry, but Eleanor had already retracted her blade by then and had settled back into perfect defensive posture.

"Tell me, girl," Eleanor scorned in a sweetly cooing voice, "do you think you'll still feel Ashla's light once I've severed your _head_ from _your body_! Aha, ha, ha, ha!"

Harry shuddered as he heard that wicked witchy laugh.

He watched as Luna unleashed a sudden flurry of attacks, her face set in a type of calm Harry rarely achieved through mediation. However, against Eleanor's posture, Luna's attacks seemed exaggerated and inefficient—for Eleanor defeated each, one after another, with a parry of her blade or twisting dodge of her extremely flexible body. For a while the two women blurred in and out of view, their sabers creating curtains of red and blue that made Harry blink as they blinded him with their whirling lights.

Now, as the battle played out between the dark woman Eleanor Columbus and the dreamily calm Luna Lovegood, Eleanor appeared just a shade more determined. A hair more skilled. A little faster. A little stronger. And a lot more practiced for a match of endurance.

Harry could easily see that Luna was tiring, almost feeling it in the way he could feel Eleanor's mounting glee. Luna tried to supplement her growing exhaustion with her Force abilities. She leapt and spun, slashing side to side, chopping and thrusting, but all of Eleanor's movements seemed far more efficient. She slithered like a snake in and out of Luna's attacks, following a single snake-like line of front and back. Her feet shifted, keeping the dark-haired woman constantly in perfect balance. As she retreated and came on suddenly with devastating thrusts that had Luna stumbling backward off balance, Luna countered with an outstretched hand that sent Eleanor's overhead slash back with her as she went tumbling across the grounds.

"Luna Lovegood," Harry shivered as he did not like the way that evil woman had purred Luna's name. He might have scarcely known either girl, but Eleanor gave him the same feeling he got when he had seen Voldemort's face on the back of Professor Quirrel's head. "you disappoint me. And my Master holds you Je'daii in such high-esteem."

"Taunt all you want, Miss Columbus," Luna was out of breath as she tried to remain calm, but the heaving of her chest and shoulders betrayed her image, "but you will not prevail against me. Harry Potter is far away from here. And if you struck me down, then I would become more powerful than you could possibly imagine. Ashla's light would welcome me into its loving embrace."

Despite her words, all three Force-users knew what was happening, Harry felt as he looked down on the battle. Luna was losing. It was happening, slowly but surely. Had she ended things with her sudden attack patterns and a good more deal of Force powers, Harry was sure she would have been victorious sooner. However, she had let things drag on, hoping to tire out the evil woman.

That had been her mistake.

Instead, it was her that was tired and out of options now.

Luna had the talent and the Force was with her, but Eleanor was a touch more practiced and far more durable for battles that lasted into the end game.

It was like a match between a Chaser and a Beater. Luna was fast and skillful, but Eleanor was agile and resilient.

Luna leapt at Eleanor with another series of slashes and chops, but Eleanor spun herself onto her feet in a move Harry could scarcely imagine as she kicked Luna's lightsaber off direction at the hilt and then angled her own red blade left and then right, then up just enough to send Luna's again descending blade slipping off to the side. Luna somersaulted high backward onto a tree branch, gasping for breath, and Harry suspected it was all she could do to put some distance between her and Eleanor Columbus.

"Come on now, pet," Eleanor licked her lips in a seductive manner, "we still have more time to play. Don't make me spank you for leaving me… _hot and bothered_."

Eleanor's lips curled in a wicked smile. She flung her saber faster than Luna could move, and Harry watched as it sliced through the branch she had been resting on. Luna collapsed to the ground just as Eleanor recalled her laser sword, bringing it to bear on Luna's recovering form.

Luna twisted up like Eleanor had before, and as she reached her feet, the blonde exploded into motion, coming on again fiercely, her blue lightsaber flashing all about. She appeared to keep a better measure of her cuts this time, though, reversing her angle often, making more time for Force pushes as she twirled in place and sent Eleanor flying back with a particularly strong one. Eleanor, by this time in the fight, was growing more prepared for the sudden change in attacks, coming from the blow and landing in a way that seemed almost provocative. When Luna met her again, turning a wide slash into a sudden thrust, she soon had Eleanor on the back foot; the red blade working furiously to keep Luna at bay. Harry watched with baited breath as Luna pressed forward more forcefully, but Eleanor continued to aggressively fend off the strikes with her superior strength and speed.

And Harry noticed it before it even happened. Luna's momentum played out. She was too far forward, while Eleanor remained in perfect balance, ready for a counterstrike. It had been a trap!

And in-between breathes, it was Eleanor suddenly pressing the attack, her red blade stabbing and retracting so quickly that most of Luna's cutting parries hit nothing but air. Luna had to jump back, and then back again, and again, as those thrusts moved ever closer to hitting home.

Eleanor stepped forward suddenly, stabbing low for Luna's thigh. Down went the blue blade to intercept, but to Harry's horror, Eleanor cried out in glee as she retracted her weapon and thrust it right back out, up high and across the other way. Luna couldn't get her weapon back to block, nor could she slide back fast enough. The red blade stabbed shallow into Luna's left shoulder, and as she lurched back—probably twisting away for a Force push that would give her distance to recover, Harry thought—Eleanor retracted the blade and slashed along its original course, grazing Luna's thigh a second before it moved. The following Force push from Luna had strength to it, but unlike the walls that she had blasted Eleanor with before, this one was more like a strong gust of wind that sent the two female fighters stumbling backward. Luna went back tripping and crashing hard against the tree behind her. Eleanor had just enough presence of mind to send her own Force attack, and with a sudden jerk, she sent Luna's lightsaber bouncing across the forest floor where it deactivated and lay motionless in the darkness.

"And so it ends, my little Je'daii pet." Eleanor said to the helpless blonde Lovegood. The woods were not silent in the absence of their clashes. There were people screaming in the distance. Harry took more note of them than before as his focus on the duel lessened. There were also lights flickering in the direction of the campsite. The bright and yet soft flicker of fire in the distance.

Eleanor had noticed it too, and was scowling fiercely at the commotion behind her. She probably thought Harry had gone with Ron and gotten the Ministry by now. With a shrug, the elegant dark woman lifted her red blade up high, then brought it down hard at Luna's head.

And that was when Harry seized her through the Force and flung her away. She seemed surprised to be risen off her feet moments before being hurtled through the air like a well thrown quaffle. Harry didn't much care as he went down and landed beside Luna. He should have stepped in sooner, or helped the blonde girl with subtle magic spells or Force pushes.

But something in the air—in the Force itself—had told him to wait and watch, as if he needed to see two true Force-users in battle with their powers and lightsabers.

That, and he got the impression that Luna wouldn't have wanted him to reveal himself.

"Y-You… You should have… run, Harry Potter," Luna said through the pain. Harry tentatively looked at the cuts. They were not bleeding, mostly because they had been sealed off by the very heat of the lightsaber that did the cutting. The two wounds looked like angry burn marks, much worse than any Luna could have gotten from cooking at the stove or putting her hand in a campfire. "These marks… will be the least of our worries… if that woman gets a hold of you…"

"I should have never let you fight her in place of me, Luna," Harry said sternly, feeling that if she fought for him, he could at least honor her by using her name in a friendly manner. "I tell my friends all the time I don't want them getting hurt for my sake, and look what I've let happen…"

"You didn't have much of a choice… did you?" Luna smiled weakly as Harry helped her sit up. "No laser sword, right?"

"Yeah, none at the moment. I'll be borrowing yours pretty soon though," Harry smiled to Luna, even as he could feel Eleanor watching them.

And yet, he could also feel something else. Not just the people approaching their way, but more than that.

Yoda… yes, but no…

Another person strong in the Force… true, but not that either…

 _Yes, there_! It was a veiled presence at the edge of his perception trying to hide itself.

And as quickly as Harry felt it in full, it vanished.

But the sensation of its _evil_ … its vile nature… the darkness and depravity… Harry had felt it for a mere second, and it made him feel unclean in so many bad ways…

"Harry Potter," Eleanor cooed sweetly as Harry rose to full height, calling Luna's lightsaber to his hand. "I'm so glad you could make this a threesome. As you can see, my toys usually end up in worse shape trying to keep up with me. I hope you, Harry, won't leave me so… _unsatisfied_."

"I should have fought you myself, lightsaber or no lightsaber." Harry said, his back still to the woman. He then turned, so suddenly with such a presence that Eleanor reacted immediately, backpedaling and bringing her saber up to bear. "That was a mistake. One I will _never_ make again. You have one chance; surrender, or end up worse than what you've done to Luna."

"That's brave of you, Harry. All man; so forceful and _dominate_. But it's still stupid. I'm the one in control here. And when _I'm_ in control, no one leaves me without a mark of my… _personal touch_."

"Then so be it, you've made your choice." Harry replied coolly, and he came on then, so suddenly, so powerfully, Luna's blue blade whirling with such speed that he seemed almost encased in a waterfall of blue light.

Eleanor lost her little confident smile then. She had to work furiously to keep Harry's blade work at bay, dodging more than parrying. She hadn't expected him to be so sure of himself with a laser sword. He was well-practiced, that she could give him. It was certainly a style she had never seen, a lot more refined than Luna's attack patterns had been as she tried to step out to the side, but stopped as if she had hit a wall, and her eyes widened a bit when she realized that this amateur, in the midst of his assault, had used magic to block her exit.

"You have unusually strong powers, Harry. I would expect no less from such a _virile_ man as yourself." Eleanor sincerely congratulated. Her little grin returned, and gradually Eleanor put herself back on even footing with Harry, trading thrust for slash and forcing Harry to dodge and parry as often as he tried to strike.

His initial attack had caught her by surprise, and his skill with a saber had left her stunned for a few moments, but now the shock of it all was fading as she both spread her dark magic to cloud his mind and soaked it in to empower herself.

"Unusual and strong," Eleanor said again. "But not enough to save you! _Aha, ha, ha, ha_!" She came on hard then, thinking to drive Harry back and off balance as she had driven Luna back. But Harry held his ground stubbornly, Luna's blue lightsaber flashing left, right, and down so forcefully and precisely that none of Eleanor's attacks got through.

Off to the side, Luna watched as the battle before her unfolded as it edged past the earlier fight and into the mid game. She saw Harry hold his own against Eleanor, but saw that he was making the same mistake she had without even knowing it. Now as an observer to the dueling, Luna understood that Harry's advantage and even footing in the battle couldn't hold. He was doing it, like her before him. He was expending many times the energy of the efficient Eleanor, and Luna knew that as soon as the battle reached the end game…

And as soon as Harry tired…

* * *

Obi-Wan certainly had not expected this kind of situation when he disembarked from his ship with Master Yoda beside him.

The two had landed the ship a few miles away and jogged toward where they could feel Harry mutely through some sort of shielding.

When they had reached said shield, they passed through it with no problem.

Only for Obi-Wan to remember that he had something else to do on the ship—check to make sure they had enough fuel for the return to Yoda's hut outside of the small city.

Then he went back through the shield.

Only for him to remember something else—space. Did they have proper quarters for Harry while he was on the ship?

Then again through the shield.

"What are we going to say when we find him, Master Yoda?" Obi-Wan said as he stepped back through the shield on the side of their ship.

Yoda had watched Obi-Wan come and go for the past half hour. He shook his head as he stood patiently on the side of the shield that Harry was on; along with many other life forms.

For the first time in a long time, Yoda basked in the feelings of so many others around him. Inside the unusual shield, Yoda could feel the life forms as they flourish through the Force. These humans, who so freely wielded the Force through their uncommon and— _in his opinion_ —unrefined "magic", were indeed strong with their power and their emotions. Brilliant beings were they, illuminous in the Force and expressive as their emotions ranged with their lifestyles and customs on the planet. Their differences gave each of them a distinct vibration through the Force, making a harmony of life Yoda loved with all his heart.

This world—even with the darkness that surrounded it—was one the Jedi needed for reflection, not Coruscant. A world where trees and people grew, not one where all were bogged down by their own limitations in the technology available to them.

"And what will we be teaching him from this point onward?" Obi-Wan was out of the shield again, but it had taken a little while longer this time for the mind trick to work. Yoda rolled his eyes. Kenobi was so unsuspecting of the people's magic, so condensing toward it, that he was unprepared for their tricks.

Yoda, on the other hand, no longer took such things for granted. He might have regarded their "magic" as childish when compared to the full potential of the Force, but he knew that even a childish trick could be a powerful and deadly one in any sentient being's hands.

"And why… why do I keep walking back and forth through this part of the forest?" Obi-Wan rubbed his left temple as he walked through the shield this time, looking confused and dazed. "Is this… was that a Jedi mind trick? That I just _passed_ _through_? _H-How_? How in the name of the Force is that even possible!?"

"Hmm," Yoda decided that laughing at Obi-Wan's misfortune would get them nowhere. A little wisdom could, however, get the man a long way. "through the Force, possible, anything is. Feel its power, you do. And yet, a different stream of that power, these humans possess. Feel and use the Force differently, they do. Not equal to a Jedi, but strong are they nonetheless. Approach these natives with caution, we should."

"With the ability to turn the mind trick into a permeable shield, I must concur with caution being in our best interests." Obi-Wan agreed, stroking his beard while clearing his mind of the compulsion to turn around once more and check the ship's fuel for a third time. "Who knows what else these life-forms could have in store for us."

"This shield, meant to keep us out, it was not." Yoda informed Kenobi as he ambled through the forest alongside the bearded human, "But sense I do, trouble along our path. The dark side at work, I fear."

"Yes, yes… I feel it too." Obi-Wan said, feeling the rising wave of panic and fear along with something much darker. "And I believe we should hurry, Master."

"Agreed." Was all Yoda said before the two senior Jedi masters took off toward the rising trouble with speed that could put a speeder to shame.

* * *

 **And there you have it! Obi-Wan and Yoda are on the scene! Harry gets his first real taste of the larger universe he's willingly stepped into with Yoda's training! He's even dragged Hermione and Ron and the others into his mess. Though... to be fair... they would have barged their way in one way or another, anyhow...**

 **And look! Harry's even been introduced to two beautiful women fighting over him!**

 **Huh...? Oh, they're not fighting over him? But then why are they-?**

 **OHH! Okay, I got it!**

 **Light vs. Dark! IT IS THEIR DESTINY!**

 **Okay, gotcha!**

 **But seriously, I hope everyone has enjoyed the chapter. I know I've been gone for a while now, but I'm here to stay now! Long live the FanFiction!**

 **The next chapter is already written and edited. It will be posted a week or so from now. Maybe sooner if people want it...**

 **If you have any comments, questions, or concerns, feel free to leave them in a REVIEW or to PM me directly!**

 **And if you liked what you've read here, please check out my other stories on my Profile Page.**

 **Until Next Time, See Ya!**


	9. Hello There!

**This chapter... is more fanfiction than even _I_ care to admit. However, I could also see it happening as something similar happened on the Clone Wars television show, so... its plausible as well as OP.**

 **With that said, Long Live Obi-Wan "Hello There" Kenobi!**

 **Chapter 9: Hello There**

* * *

Luna knew she had to do something. She tried to get up from her prone position sitting against the tree trunk, but winced and fell back, in too much pain. As she collected her thoughts, she steadied herself by watching Harry's ever flowing fighting form. Harry didn't seem to tire, never once breaking the rhythm and tempo of his duel against the dark acolyte. Luna watched in admiration as Harry worked like a waterfall against Eleanor, stone walling her attacks and countering them in perfect harmony with blinding speed and precision.

But soon the dance would end.

Soon, Harry would tire as she did before him.

Soon… he, too, would fall to Eleanor…

Eleanor attacked from every angle she could as a snarl escaped her. When not meeting her attacks head on, Harry Potter simply leaned away from them, the edge of his blue lightsaber narrowly missing her from an opposite angle as he did.

"To fight, more ways than one there are…" Harry muttered to himself in some crazed fashion. "Angles, every one of them an opportunity."

Eleanor jumped over him in a flip, but Harry's blade caught hers as he spun on heel to keep up. She didn't try the maneuver again. Potter was constantly muttering advice to himself in a crazed little backward talk that confused and enraged her.

His fighting form, however… His attack was very fluid, one motion flowing into the next with little wasted effort. His body snapping from one to the next as he if were merely in practice. Their sabers clashed, limbs darting out in an effort to catch the enemy off guard.

Finally Eleanor broke off the conflict. She stood back, her eyes watching Potter.

It was fine.

Potter was watching her, too.

They were both learning about their opponent.

The forest around them was now awash with wizards and witches fleeing in panic from something or another that had occurred at the campsite. Not even ten minutes ago Eleanor had become aware of the flickering fires and escaping fools that were now merely background noise to her duel against Lovegood and Potter. It mattered not. Those were fools, and Eleanor would sacrifice every one of them to learn what she wished to know. If she thought it helpful, she would pull one toward her with dark magic and use them as a hostage.

She knew Potter wouldn't just cut them down.

She was watching, and studying, and saving the moment for herself.

Harry whirled the lightsaber in his hands. With every passing second, it became a more comfort weight in his hands. It was a much better fit for him than Yoda's lightsaber had ever been. It was still small for him, but it still held natural to a human's hand size. And rubber grip where his fingers tightened around the hilt was far more comfortable than Yoda's all metal design as well.

All in all, Harry had a half a mind to ask Luna's help in making his own saber one day.

Even as all this went through his mind, Harry kept some of his focus on Eleanor Columbus. As he fought her, he made sure to keep ever present the advice Yoda had given him. True, his most dangerous opponent in Jedi training before now had been rocks, clots of dirt, and tree branches, but the principle was still the same.

 _Defend where you can, move away where you cannot_ …

 _See your opponent's strikes before they can decipher your own_ …

 _The Force, use it to help with speed and strength where needed_ …

 _Stay always in motion, you must. Strike from every direction, you can_ …

 _See everything. Everything! Help you, it can_ …

He knew to watch the way the dark-haired woman moved. The way her red lightsaber went this way and that. Yoda would say that revealed training. Tactics. Technique. She didn't fight him with strength as her weapon, but precise measure and darting speed. She moved in and out like a coiled snake from the zoo. She probably thought in three moves ahead. She seemed like the type. Harry knew he was putting everything he had behind his attacks, moving as quickly as possible while still retaining his strength. The dark-haired woman was quicker still by the fact that she met and defended against him as often as she slipped out of the way.

As Yoda would put it, this woman retaliated with perfect economy.

Harry raised Luna's lightsaber.

Eleanor was not caught unprepared as she snapped her own into defensive posture. She inclined her head, breathing more quickly, lips curling into a smile.

"Finally," was all she said.

Harry said nothing as he went at her. They were so different, Harry thought at random as he deflected her piercing thrust haphazardly sideways and up. He was like a thunderstorm, powerful and pushing. She, like rain, quick and efficient. The back and forth of their clashing sabers held substance but not form, a blur of light that seemed impossibly fast, unbelievably deadly. The two leapt and swerved, collided and bounced away. Bright blue versus crimson red. Hands, knees, feet, all in a mind-numbing blur.

Eleanor came on and on, striking fast but nimbly. She was as elusive as a breeze. She had managed to slip through a weave of blue lightning that came crashing down all around her. Then she flipped back on her hands. Once. Twice. Three times.

Harry covered the distance between them with a single somersaulting leap.

Harry saw that she was extraordinarily quick, but her very ferocity in keeping him at bay was what would give him a chance to finally hit her. His reach was just an inch or so longer than hers, and so when he blocked her lightsaber, he kept it pinned down. He slid his saber along the length of hers the way she had previously done to Luna.

Then he backhanded her.

Luna was surprised.

Harry was surprised.

But neither was more shocked than Eleanor herself.

She stood stunned for a second. She blinked a couple of times, and Harry allowed her the chance to regain her senses because he had never before in his life struck a lady in the face.

That had been his mistake.

The next moment she roared like a lion and Harry stumbled back just quick enough to miss the obvious attempt to behead him. She whirled her saber from that point on with no conscious thought. Harry had no time for anything but response as he ducked and spun back. Eleanor drew his attention to the left and leapt into the air in a spinning kick that slammed Harry back into narrowly missing a tree. Instead, he was sent head over heel into the ground when he tripped over an overgrown root.

Once down, he never had a chance to get up again, found himself fighting from his back, wiggling and edging backwards, movement so limited that he knew the fight might be over within seconds. The first touch of desperation wormed its way through his mind.

"I WILL KILL YOU!" Eleanor snarled for any and all to hear as she held her saber high above her head, and brought it down on a wide-eyed Harry Potter.

* * *

If anyone who knew him had been in that campsite, they would have been surprised to see peace loving Obi-Wan Kenobi take an arm that day.

Obi-Wan and Yoda had arrived on the scene just in the nick of time. By the light of the few fires that were still burning, he could see people running away into the woods, fleeing something that was moving across the field toward him and Yoda, something that was emitting odd flashes of light and noises like blaster-fire. Loud jeering, roars of laughter, and drunken yells were drifting toward them; then came a burst of strong green light, which illuminated the scene.

A crowd of human, tightly packed and moving together with tree sticks pointing straight upward, was marching slowly across the field. Obi-Wan stood firm as he squinted at them. Humans though they obviously were, these humans didn't seem to have faces. Then he realized that their heads were hooded and their faces masked. High above them, floating along in midair, four struggling figures were being contorted into grotesque shapes. It was as though the masked people on the ground were puppeteers, and the people above them were marionettes operated by cruel invisible strings that rose from the sticks into the air.

Two of the figures in the air were very small.

More of the masked individuals were joining the marching group, laughing and pointing up at the floating bodies. Tents crumpled and fell as the marching crowd swelled. Once or twice Obi-Wan saw one of the marchers blast a tent out of his way with his stick pointed at it. That let the Jedi Master know that it was foci, a tool or wand of some sort for which the Force was being directed.

And yet, he felt no disturbances in the Force from their power.

Which meant that it was entirely foreign to him how they manipulated the Force.

Several more tents caught fire.

Sorcery… Ugh… well, that was just _perfect_ …

The screaming grew louder. The floating people were suddenly illuminated as they passed over a burning tent and Obi-Wan was shocked to find that the two small figures were children.

Children!

One of the marchers below flipped woman of the four-people suspended in the air upside down with his wand; her nightdress fell down to reveal undergarments Obi-Wan decidedly ignored in order to preserve some of the woman's dignity. She struggled to cover herself up as the crowd below her screeched and hooted with glee.

"This ends now." He said with narrowed eyes. Yoda nodded next to him, but Obi-Wan hardly noticed. Watching the smallest child begin to spin like a top, sixty feet above the ground, his head flopping limply from side to side was taking all his attention.

And all his rage.

Obi-Wan made his presence clear. He spoke in a loud and decisive tone. Either they would stop their depravity peacefully, or he would make them with force. There were some others around, arriving in from all sides as they stood ready to fight the masked crowd. Obi-Wan was sure he wouldn't need their help, but he was thankful all the same.

Sadly, masked crowd weren't interested in peace. One had waved his wand, flung Obi-Wan into a tree.

It all went downhill from there.

Obi-Wan had come back faster than the masked crowd had ever expected. As they were jeering and laughing, he had appeared in front of them with an outstretched hand. The one who had sent him flying went flying himself. The small child dropped out of the sky, and Obi-Wan leapt into the air to catch him. Below, Yoda was already moving around with his diminutive height, slicing apart foci wands as though they were droid legs like in the Clone Wars.

Obi-Wan reached the child and held him tight as they descended.

When he touched ground, an elder woman with laugh lines in her wrinkles was there waiting with open arms. He gave her the child and then leapt again. He caught the next child. He handed the young girl to a pudgy man who was balding.

He didn't leap again.

There was no point.

The man and woman were already about to hit ground.

So, he and Master Yoda reached out instead with the Force. Like the hands of many, the man and woman slowed dramatically until they were hovering only a few feet from the ground. Obi-Wan was so relieved that he stopped and panicked all in the span of a second.

Luckily, there was long-haired redheaded young man who was pointing his focal tool at the woman Obi-Wan had caught. He sighed in relief as the boy nodded to him.

But things weren't over just then. No, not by a long shot.

As Yoda was telling him something about greeting the locals, one of the masked individuals shot a blast of orange light at them.

Obi-Wan's hand had dipped to the lightsaber on his belt, faster than anyone would have imagined a man of his age could move. His lightsaber deflected the blast into the air, then he surged forward. In two quick orbits of his saber, Obi-Wan had sliced first through the wand aimed at him. That was in two perfect halves of tree bark.

Then he carved through the thug. For that was all this masked low-life was. A simple thug with a few nasty Force tricks.

It was the first time in what felt like forever that Obi-Wan had even ignited the lightsaber, let alone acted with it. And what amazed him was that he had not lost a step since the terrible end of the Clone Wars. There was no wasted motion… One moment a wand was aimed at him and Yoda, probably with some Force power to end their lives for interfering, and the next moment the masked thug's days of threatening anyone were over.

Because he had lost the arm he pointed at the last of the Jedi Order.

Obi-Wan had stood for a moment, coolly regarding the other people standing around the campsite with the lightsaber held before him in ready position. Some were frozen in fear and awe. Others fled into the forest where a moment later they vanished from both sight and Force senses as if they had simply disappeared or teleported away.

When all the masked people had been either captured or beyond finding, he deactivated his blade and rejoined Yoda where everyone was looking at the two of them in awe.

He tried to imagine what the people thought of them. To see a Jedi Knight in their midst had to be a wondrous occasion. Every planet he had been on in his many years had some form of legend and rumor surrounding the Jedi. He had no reason to suspect otherwise.

And, obviously, the Empire had no influence on this small, little backwater world.

But Obi-Wan had no chance to think about it. Suddenly, a wave of dark energy assaulted his senses like a foul smell. Yoda must have felt it too as he narrowed his eyes in the distance from where the ripple in the Force had come from. It was angry, hostile, and full of hate.

And it was all aimed at what Obi-Wan knew from previous mediation to be Harry Potter.

"I'll go ahead!" Obi-Wan wasted no time to hear Yoda's response, which was probably just a grunt or nod. He raced from the campsite through the trees and over to Harry Potter.

When he found the young man who Yoda had been training, he had not expected their first meeting to see the boy to be in a lightsaber battle for his life.

None the less, Obi-Wan moved forward and activated his saber once again. He smoothly slid between the two combatants, bringing their deadlock high above their heads and well out of their height reach. He orbited his blade once overhead, and watched as two lightsabers fell deactivated into his waiting unoccupied hand.

"Hello there." He smiled at their stunned faces.

* * *

The evening after the Quidditch World Cup was in chaos. As soon as the Death Eaters had shown up in the night, everyone began to panic. Some of them packed a few belongings, others just rushed out of their tents into the woods, seeking escape. Soon the forest was filled with running wizards and witches, rushing chaotically through the trees in search of some kind of safety.

Amidst all of this, Draco Malfoy smirked. His arms folded, he seemed to have been watching the scene at the campsite through a gap in the trees.

Ron told Malfoy to do something that made Hermione gape at him.

"Ronald, language, please!" she admonished, but that didn't stop her from glaring at Malfoy.

Malfoy, the blond prat that he was, had his pale eyes glittering at Ron's crude language. "Hadn't you better be hurrying along, now? I'm sure Granger wouldn't like to be caught up in the party, would you?"

"What's that supposed to mean?" Hermione asked defiantly. "I'm a witch as good as any. Why would they be after—"

"Granger, they're after Muggles," Malfoy rolled his eyes. "Do you want to be showing off your knickers in midair? Because if you do, hang around… they're moving this way, and it would give us all a laugh."

"They can't possibly be able to tell who's a Pureblood or not in all this chaos!" Hermione snarled.

"Have it your way then, Granger." Malfoy said, grinning widely. "If you think they can't spot a Mudblood—"

"You watch your mouth!" Ron shouted, drawing his wand on the blond.

This time it wasn't broken.

"Never mind him, Ron," Hermione said quickly, seizing Ron's arm to restrain him as he took a step toward Malfoy. There came a bang from the other side of the trees that was louder than anything they had heard. Several people nearby screamed.

Malfoy chuckled softly. "Scare easily, don't they?" he said lazily.

"Ron, we need to find Harry!" Hermione spat forcefully, glaring daggers at the arrogant blond.

"Yes, yes. Where is Potty? I suppose he sent you all to hide, hmm? What's he up to — trying to rescue the Muggles?"

"And where are your parents?" Hermione said as she practically dragged Ron past the Malfoy heir, even her patience wearing thin and her temper rising fast. "Out there wearing masks? Probably thinking no one would recognize them, huh?"

Malfoy turned his face to Hermione as she was still moving away. He was still smiling. "Well… my parents aren't such pathetic fools that they need to get a kick out of this stuff. Their ambitions are _so much bigger_ than getting drunk and making a spectacle of muggles."

"Sounds like they get their kicks out of the same, just not went they have to face Ministry wizards for it." Ron spat, looking at the blond in disgust. "You and your lots are all bullies and cowards without an ounce of any real power between ya!"

Malfoy wasn't smiling or smirking at that. He looked angry. His grey eyes narrowed and he bared his teeth at them.

"You don't know _power_ , Weasley. And you _never_ _will_. My mother… and my father, have shown to me a world of power you couldn't _possibly_ imagine. So run along to your precious Saint Potter. He too will learn soon that all his fame can't save him when my mother and I finally—"

But he cut himself off, staring vacantly into the space between them. Then he shook his head and began smiling again. "It doesn't matter right now. Go find Potter, or whatever pieces remain of him."

"Oh, come on," Hermione said with a final disgusted look at Malfoy, "let's go and help Harry."

But when they reached where the flashes of blue and red were clashing, they saw another had reached the spot as well. This one had a blue light as well, and when he whirled it once in a clash, he made the other two disappear.

"Hello there." They heard as they came onto the scene where Harry and a dark-haired young woman were staring in shock at the older man who had so obviously interrupted them.

* * *

This was them. This was the sight of a man and woman beginning to see their fighting prime.

Harry Potter.

Eleanor Columbus.

For the woman, it was like a wrathful flower to blossom. She was growing readier with the steady march of time. Then there would come a day— maybe months or even years from this moment— when she'd never to be any better, her powers and skills at their apex. In addition, she was driven by her singular hatred for and disdain of the Jedi Knights, the enemies of the Sith for millennia. She had worked and trained all her life for this moment, for a chance to meet a Jedi Knight in combat. It had been her dream since she was only four years old.

It was an added bonus that she was able to engage the two.

On the other hand, there was the young man. He had no fear for himself, no doubt that he would win. He was focused in a way that was recognized at once—a Jedi's focus, mindful of the present, locked in on what was needed in the here and now. It could be seen in his narrowed emerald eyes and in the set of his lightning scar features.

Harry weathered the overhead chops that Eleanor brought down upon him like a hammer striking an anvil. It was hard, and it was like she kept getting stronger with every blow. Harry felt the heat of his saber on his face as the woman had drove it close enough to illuminate off his glasses entirely.

Then, when she roared again with all the hate in her soul, Harry darted away in a rolling leap that saw him off his back and behind Eleanor. He took up the fight against her once more, but now she was using her hate and angry to bolster her strength. Her new heights of aggression were quickly becoming his weakness as it seeped into the air around him. Harry felt as though the air around them had grown hot and muggy, like being in closed room too long during the summer. It made him unfocused and dizzy. He tried hard to keep the balance between them in their fight, but it was fairly noticeable she was now winning.

She was no longer fighting just to amuse herself or test his skill level.

She was actively going to kill him.

"You have one chance, Potter!" she screeched like a banshee. "Join me or die!"

"I would never join you!" Harry retorted hotly, and pushed all his being into fighting against her spreading darkness and combat her evenly. "You are twisted and loony! No wonder you work for Voldemort!"

"That fool is not my Master! I will first kill you!" she said as their lightsabers clashed, "Then I'll kill him!"

But Harry didn't believe her. He didn't want to think there were people in the world that were worse than the man who had killed his parents.

With every blow and parry and thrust of their weapons, the air around them grew more and more charged. Trees were scorched or sliced in two. Hairs were cut in last minute dodges. But they were undaunted, for with every thrust and lock of their swords, the two snarled at each other.

Harry with unparalleled determination.

Eleanor with unequalled fury.

Harry used his lightsaber to ward off Eleanor's aggressive lunges and thrusts. A slash of her crimson blade at his feet made the raven-haired boy jump back in an effort to protect himself.

Remember the training, Harry cautioned himself as he went stumbling back. He would not fall this time, for the Force was with him. Remember what Yoda taught! Cast out all thought and receive the Force!

Gaining control over his thoughts and feelings once more, Harry flipped back onto an overhead tree branch. That only made Eleanor angrier. She stalked him for a second below, like a wild tiger that was glaring up at her prey. Then she whirled her lightsaber above her head and leapt up to meet him. Harry jumped down to meet her halfway. He couldn't possibly fight her in the trees.

That would have been suicide on his part.

Their sabers met once. Twice. On the third exchange, Harry felt a burning sting behind his left shoulder.

She had scored a hit. It burned, but it had been nothing more than a scorch to his shoulder blade. Harry kept on fighting despite it.

She came back faster than Harry thought possible, because as soon as he touched ground, she was at his back trying her best to cleave him in two at his waist. Harry managed to bring her laser sword off target by bending out the way while deflecting with Luna's blue lightsaber in a way that would have been impossible if not for his Jedi training.

"You are weak!" she snarled, "And I will destroy you! I will make my Master proud! He will love me!"

"You're barmy and you need help!"

"Argh!" she roared, assaulting him with wild, unpredictable strikes.

Harry barely beat her back, but he looked up just in time to glimpse the bottom of her heeled boot as it came down on his face and smacked him tumbling toward the ground. Harry used the momentum to his advantage as he flowed with it, flipping back so he landed on his feet in a crouch. He touched down in perfect balance to spring again toward the woman. Lightning fast, scarlet against sky blue, sparks sprayed from their clashing lightsabers as Eleanor slashed away at him in an impressive succession of weaving, wild thrusts that drove the emerald-eyed teen's blade out of line while they reached for his heart.

Harry moved faster then, feeling his blood pounding in his ears as he pushed himself to go as speedily as the Force could make him. He drove Eleanor back, and the wildness of her anger seized with the shock of his new agility. Only a desperate whirl to one side made what would have been a smoking hole in her chest into a line of scorch through the shoulder fabric of black top.

She quickly threw herself spinning up and away from him, stopping for a moment to recover her composure. He raised his blade high like a knight of King Arthur's days. He knew what she must have thought. How that had been entirely too close for her in the haze of her rage.

He couldn't give her time to think like that. People like her made plans when they had that time. So, he lunged at her, blade whirling so fast that he seemed encased in a waterfall of crystal clear sky blue light. She orbited her lightsaber around her front, then dropped and spun as she swept his legs from under him. He rolled back, but did not give her the distance she was desperate to get.

The two went back and forth in their deadly dance of trying to overcome the other. When their blades met in a lock again, Harry felt they had gone on for too long. Impossibly long.

It was more than he could comprehend. It was like something out of fiction. As though there were more to this conflict than Harry Potter fighting against this vile woman, Eleanor Columbus, which was obviously not her real name.

If he had reached into the Force with the wisdom and mastery of one who was fully embraced by its wonder, then he would have seen their duel as the expression of that most fundamental conflict of the universe itself.

Light against dark.

Winner take all.

Or, at least until another sky-blue laser sword ignited and joined their grueling conflict.

One that whirled impossibly fast once and took their clashing sabers from them in the same second.

Harry's eyes were wider than they'd ever been. He stole a glance at Eleanor's expression and found that, like him, she was gaping like a fish, too.

An older man with auburn hair and kind blue eyes was looking at them as he casually caught hold of the two recently clashing sabers. He grinned as they landed in his waiting hand.

"Hello there." He said, and Harry thought he sounded impossibly smug.

* * *

 **Hello there! Hope everyone enjoyed the chapter!**

 **This is where the story will begin to break more and more from HP Canon as Yoda and Obi-Wan influence more and more of Harry Potter's life.**

 **REVIEW and/or PM if you have any questions, comments, or concerns about the chapter!**

 **As always, I'm open to suggestions!**

 **Until Next Time, See Ya!**


	10. Return of the Jedi

**A/N: Here, take this! A chapter to apologize for my disappearance into the Unknown Regions! Please, take it and forgive me!**

 **Chapter 10: Return of the Jedi**

* * *

"You are _weak_!" Eleanor Columbus snarled viciously, her dark eyes ignited with emotion. "And I will _destroy_ you! I will make my Master _proud_! He will _love_ _**me**_!"

"You're barmy and you need help!" Harry Potter snapped back as Eleanor's blood-colored lightsaber grinded against the sky-blue blade in his hands; a lightsaber he was currently using on loan from the injured Luna Lovegood.

" _ **ARGH**_!" she roared, assaulting him with wild, unpredictable strikes.

Luna Lovegood had watched with bleary eyes as Harry Potter had first charged out at the dark-haired woman that opposed them. That had defeated her. At first, he had abandoned any pretense of observing even the slightest caution. He just went barreling into her with such a fury of surprising speed and power that he almost caught the young, dark woman off guard.

Almost.

He struck out as though his own safety meant nothing, lost in a haze of determination, frustration, and guilt at her, Luna, being injured at his expense. Consumed by his failure to prevent her fall to the Sith'ari acolyte's blade. The darkly clad female had been borne backward by Harry's initial rush, caught off guard by her new opponent's wild assault. There she struggled to keep him at bay, trying to open enough space between them to defend herself.

Their lightsabers had scraped and grated against each other, and the woods echoed with their fury. Bending and twisting and dancing, Eleanor regained the offensive and counterattacked, using her flexibility and agility with a lightsaber in an effort to cut Harry's legs out from under him.

But Harry, while not so experienced as either woman with a lightsaber, was quicker and stronger. Anticipating each blow, he was able to elude their antagonist's efforts to bring him down. The struggle took them around the trees, over rabbit holes, and avoiding out-grown roots; into shadowed recesses and around severed tree limbs and scorched ground streaks.

Twice, Harry went down, losing his footing on the roots behind him. Once, Eleanor Columbus hammered at him with such determination that she seared off a side of the young wizard's jacket, hip to shoulder blade length, and it was only by countering with an up-thrust counter-strike to the other's midsection and by rolling quickly away and back to his feet that Harry was able to escape.

Eventually, the acolyte began to wear the young wizard down. Bit by bit, she pressed him back, carrying the attack to him, looking to catch him off guard.

Then he had suddenly backhanded her.

That had been all the vile woman needed.

Something new to refuel her anger and supplement her waning strength. If Harry had been calm. Had remained patient, then he too would have sensed his victory as well as Luna had. He would have felt Eleanor's power slipping away from her. He would have recognized the break in combat as a chance to mount enough dregs of dark power together to mount a final assault.

Instead, he had thought to challenge the woman as he rushed the dark-haired harpy. He attacked with a series of side blows designed to bring Eleanor's weapon up before feinting downward on the vertical. Then he brought his own lightsaber whirling backward, his hand shot out with such force that the smack vibrated the air close to the two fighters.

Luna had heard it, and it shocked her that Harry Potter would be so stupid.

Now he could barely beat the vicious woman back.

And Luna flinched as she saw him look up just in time to glimpse the bottom of Eleanor's heeled boot as it came down on his face and smacked him tumbling toward the ground.

Eleanor glared daggers at him as he came on in a sudden rush, Luna's blue blade coming in hard, right to left. But with only a slight movement, red stabbed under blue, then lifted up, and Harry's attacks went flying harmlessly high of the mark. With a slight reversal of her wrist, Eleanor stabbed straight ahead, and Harry had to bend back at a spine-snapping angle as he brought the blue lightsaber across, trying to parry. But Eleanor had already retracted her blade by then and had settled back into perfect defensive posture before lashing out again.

Against that posture and rapid darting attacks, Harry's earlier assault of sudden strong attacks seemed exaggerated and inefficient.

And he was beginning to see that was how he had lost before the fight had even started.

For Eleanor defeated each, one after another, with a slight parry or dodge now, seeming barely to move.

She had played him from the beginning. Eleanor Columbus had fought him, but it wasn't until now that she took him seriously, utterly and without doubt. He had struck her, and that meant he was a threat. Now she took no chances.

She would kill him if he didn't pull it together.

Now, as the battle played out in between the lightning span of thoughts, Harry saw that her style of fighting and experience were brilliant beyond what he had been taught by Yoda. He had only been prepared to fight a battle he could escape from.

But with Luna injured and no safe way to get her away without Eleanor killing them both, Harry was trapped.

The emerald-eyed teen leapt and spun, slashing side to side, chopping and thrusting, but Eleanor movements seemed advanced and experienced. She followed a single line, front and back, her feet shifting to keep her constantly in perfect balance as she darted in with suddenly devastating thrusts before retreating.

Harry moved forward with another series of slashes and chops, but that red blade angled left and then right, then up just enough to send the blue saber descending and slipping off to the side. Harry refused to retreat then, gasping for breath as he surged on, moving with a starburst of speed and strength that left him gasping for breath.

Harry barely beat her back, but not well enough. He looked up just in time to glimpse the bottom of her heeled boot as it came down on his face and smacked him tumbling toward the ground. Harry used the momentum to his advantage though as he flowed with it, flipping back so he landed on his feet in a crouch. He touched down in perfect balance to spring again toward the Eleanor. Lightning fast, scarlet against sky blue, sparks sprayed from their clashing lightsabers as Eleanor slashed away at him in an impressive succession of weaving, wild thrusts that drove the emerald-eyed teen's blade out of line while her strikes reached for his heart.

Harry moved faster then, feeling his blood pounding in his ears as he pushed himself to go as speedily as the Force could make him. It had worked once, so Harry was banking on it again. He drove Eleanor back, and the wildness of her anger seized with the shock of his new agility. Only a desperate whirl to one side made what would have been a smoking hole in her chest into a line of scorch through the shoulder fabric of black top.

She quickly threw herself spinning up and away from him, stopping for a moment to recover her composure. He raised his blade high like a knight of King Arthur's days. He knew what she must have thought. How that had been entirely too close for her in the haze of her rage.

He couldn't give her time to think like that. People like her made plans when they had that time. So, he lunged at her, blade whirling so fast that he seemed encased in a waterfall of crystal clear sky blue light. She orbited her lightsaber around her front, then dropped and spun as she swept his legs from under him. He rolled back, but did not give her the distance she was desperate to get.

The two went back and forth in their deadly dance of trying to overcome the other. When their blades met in a lock again, Harry felt they had gone on for too long. Impossibly long.

It was more than he could comprehend. It was like something out of fiction. As though there were more to this conflict than Harry Potter fighting against this vile woman, Eleanor Columbus, which was obviously not her real name.

If he had reached into the Force with the wisdom and mastery of one who was fully embraced by its wonder, then he would have seen their duel as the expression of that most fundamental conflict of the universe itself.

Light against dark.

Winner take all.

Or, at least until another sky-blue beam of light joined the conflict.

One that whirled impossibly fast once and took their clashing sabers from them in the same second.

Harry's eyes were wider than they'd ever been. He stole a glance at Eleanor's expression and found that, like him, she was gaping like a fish, too.

An older man with auburn hair and kind blue eyes was looking at them as he casually caught hold of the two recently clashing sabers. He grinned as they landed in his waiting hand.

"Hello there." He said, and Harry thought he sounded impossibly smug.

* * *

Eleanor had not allowed the shock and surprise to catch her off-guard for long. When her saber was taken out of her reach, she had slipped into the darkness and slid behind a tree.

For a while, she cursed herself.

"I am Obi-Wan Kenobi, pleased to meet you."

Her face, struck! Her laser sword, taken!

"My name's Harry Potter. Yoda spoke very highly of you. But umm, now's not the time for that. We've got to make sure that woman's gone before we help Luna!" Potter was babbling. He was stupid. She now knew that he was still in the exact same spot she had left him when their swords were taken.

"Indeed…" the old man spoke quietly, knowing that silence would be lifesaving at the moment. She could have easily had another laser sword with her. Or her wand.

Unfortunately, she had _**neither**_ because this was supposed to be simple!

A mistake she would _**never**_ make again!

"Luna, this is Obi-Wan Kenobi. He's a Jedi. He's here to help us. Just hold on."

"I'll be fine, Harry, but you have to be quiet. She could be anywhere. Don't give away our position by being loud." Lovegood mumbled, keeping her voice low.

"Oh… right…"

But still… Her pride in _**shambles**_ and herself _**humiliated**_ by two upstart brats that knew _**nothing**_ of old magic or the Old Way!

 _ **It was more than she could bear**_!

Just as she was about to simply disappear and leave it at only four people who saw her—Potter, Weasley, Lovegood, and this newcomer—she heard footsteps coming closer.

"Stay alert, young ones… I sense this adversary is in her element now." The old man said in caution. She could hear the rustle of his robes coming closer.

And he was right. She had never faced an enemy in direct combat. Each and every kill before was done with stealth as her upmost priority. She was a shadow on the wall. A whisper on the wind. A simple face in the crowd of people.

Then she was death, striking without warning or mercy.

None whom she threw into Death's cold embrace had ever fought back. They never got the time to. Before they even realized the situation, they were in, it was already too late.

Before now, she had never come into battle with another Magical, let alone one who was knowledgeable of the Old Ways.

Well, unless one were to count her Master, but he was far worse than any other opponent she could imagine.

"Harry, be careful…" Eleanor heard Lovegood, knew she was still under that tree where she had been left. The girl probably couldn't move her arm or leg without immense burning pain.

It gave her wicked heart some measure of joy, at least.

"Eleanor," Potter didn't raise his voice above a speaking volume. He didn't need to. The chaos of whatever had taken place at the campsite was dying down now. "There's no point hiding from us. We have your lightsaber."

Then she heard the snap-hiss of a laser sword igniting. Was it hers? Lovegood? The old prune who had come from nowhere?

Eleanor stayed silent and turned her head slowly to pinpoint the sound. Footsteps, and the occasional buzz of that one sword. She knew it was Potter moving. The old coot stopped a while ago, and the way the sword was sounding through the air gave her the impression that someone was either swinging the blade or spinning around to check behind them.

Only Potter was so stupid.

But why were Lovegood and the geezer simply letting him?

No matter, she thought snidely, Potter is easy to sense through old magic. His power is still buzzing through the air. He needs toddler lessons on how to control himself better. Whoever was introducing Potter to the majesty that is the Old Way was making a shoddy job of it.

"I can feel your frustration… your burning anger…" she rolled her eyes. The dullard could sense her, too, of course. She clamped down on her thoughts and emotions. His voice was getting closer.

Come and get me, she sneered, come to your demise…

"I doubt you've gone from here. Just surrender, and we wouldn't hurt you much."

Ugh, Potter talked too much. She hated guys like that. Maybe he liked the drama, or was using it to work himself up for another fight.

"Voldemort won't be very happy with his followers acting the part of cowards, will he? I've seen Wormtail, and if that's your go-to for exit strategy… I'm not impressed." Her eyes widened as ruby red light cast long shadows across the trees. That was her sword. Potter had it!

Potter was using her sword to _catcall_ her!

It made her burn all the fiercer inside as rage consumed her every thought.

How dare that _**worthless**_ peon touch _her_ masterpiece, let alone _wave_ _it_ _around_ like a _**Neanderthal**_!

She sprang from behind tree the moment he neared her. She sent him hurtling back with a fierce burst of old magic from her outstretched right hand. Potter went rocketing back, but without her sword as her other hand used magic to grip it in the air like a rodeo lasso.

Potter never fell. His back never met with a tree, or the ground. Instead, he had remained skidding back on the balls of his feet. She realized that he had braced for her attack even before she had launched it.

It was some sort of trap, but she didn't care. With the flick of a wrist, her sword and she were reunited. It should have never left her grasp in the first place.

And ugh, it was warm with Potter's presence. This disgusted her to no end.

She sailed forward, intent on ending Potter's existence as planned. There would be no more games or persuasion. It was time for Potter to die a sudden beheading death.

Then red met blue as the old man came into view where Eleanor had seen no one and felt nothing until his sky colored sword came to life. The blades clashed, and for a split second she knew utter surprise was illuminated on her face.

She parried. But she backed up and let her saber stab forward like a fencer locked in combat. The old man drove a slash at her scarlet blade while he pivoted to one side.

The two were locked in combat.

Oh, the old fart was certainly energetic enough for his advanced age, spinning and slipping from side to side, raining blows almost at random. Meanwhile she continued, in the graceful methodical way her Master had taught her, to outmaneuver him so thoroughly it was all she could to do keep from laughing out loud.

Just like with Lovegood and Potter, the old man's tactics were ridiculously straight forward and easy to read. It was a simple matter of countering him; he was swift for a geezer, defending himself in a measured cadence, deliberate as he moved step by step, cutting off the angles, relentlessly dogged as he tried to chivvy her into a tree or uneven ground.

Whereas all she need do was slip from one side to another—and occasionally flip over his head here and there—so that she could fight him in short bursts of turn, rather than commit herself to focusing solely on him.

Potter was still there, watching them closely with Lovegood's sword hilt in his tight grip. He looked like all he wanted to do was power it on and take a swing at her.

Let him try, she grinned devilishly, because it had been working so well for him before this fossil showed up.

The old man was a touch more difficult than Potter or Lovegood. He had patience and obvious skill in his training. He was an old hand at battling against a laser sword, this she could tell from the way he drew his strikes to her parries. But to counter his patience and experience, she drove her own ripostes with thrusts of dark power that subtly altered the man's balance and disrupted his timing.

However, she still kept a thought to Potter's presence. His death was in her plans, and this insipid bearded, old man was becoming tiresome.

Not to mention tiring.

The dark power that served her so well thus far went only _so far_. And she was, after all, still being trained.

The geezer leaned into a thrust she sent darting in for his gut. He deflected with a rising parry, bringing them chest-to-chest, blades flaring, locked together a breadth from each other's throats.

"Your skills with a saber are both obvious and impressive for one so young. However, you will find that I am not so easily defeated by youth or power." He said, and his breath smelled like stale dirt.

Instead of cringing as she wanted to, she smiled seductively at him like she was taught. "A man of your age and… _experience_ has much he can teach a young innocent woman like me. Perhaps you can impart your wisdom to me… _in more ways than one_ …"

Not even a twitch. He was not a normal male, that was for sure. Potter at least had the decency to blush at her while scowling at the obvious trick she employed. This man had nothing when she sensed him. No embarrassment, no confusion. Nothing.

He was no fun.

"You are still very young. Much too young. Turn away from the anger and hate that grip your heart. There is still time to save yourself from a terrible fate… a fate worse, even, than death itself." His clothes were shabby, she noticed. They were weathered and faded, as though he wore the same thing very often. How disgusting.

Now she sneered at him, increasing her strength in their blade lock. It there was something she hated worse than a stick in the mud, it was a preachy homeless loser.

"Your powers are weak, old man! You are slow. Predictable. I'll cut you down, and then have Potter's head on a silver platter. If you want to live, then entertain me." She snarled before breaking into her carefully practiced crazed grin. Her Master had taught her the expression well. It gave an air of intimidation that worked on both Lovegood and Potter. "Do better, old man! Show me what sixty years of foolishness and Je'daii stupidity has gave you!"

The man's response was to jerk back as though she had spit on him. Then he regarded her with a strange look in his eyes before pushing forward in their stalemate, knocking her back with surprising strength mustered from out of nowhere.

Then he shot straight upward over Eleanor's head so fast it seemed he'd vanished.

She turned on the spot as she found his blade driving straight for her heart. Only a desperate whirl to one side made what would have been a smoking hole in her chest into the death of a tree.

What was _this_?

Eleanor could not take another shock today. She collected herself by throwing herself spinning up and away from the Je'daii fools.

That had been _entirely_ too close.

Ahh!

The old man! He was in front of her, _again_ appearing from _thin air_ as his blade weaved through a defensive velocity so bewilderingly fast that Eleanor dared not even attempt a strike; she threw a feint toward his beard, then dropped and spun in a reverse ankle-sweep.

But not only did the old fart easily overleap her attack, she nearly lost her own foot to a slash from him. She came back up in the same motion, but had to defend herself as the old man slammed a following strike down at her so hard that the shock of deflecting it buckled her elbows.

The next bent her wrist. The third flash of blue forced her scarlet blade so far to the inside that she felt the heat of her own laser sword on her shoulder.

It was unavoidable. She was forced to give ground.

She felt the color drain from her face. Where had _**this**_ _come from_? The old man came on impossibly powerful, a mountain troll with a sword. Eleanor backed away as fast as she dared; old guy stayed right on top of her. Her breath went short and hard, hair sticking to her face at odd and irritating places. She no longer tried to block his strikes but only to guide them slanting away; she could not meet him strength-to-strength.

This man had fooled her so utterly and completely that she felt dizzy. He was not weak. She now felt his tremendous reserves of magical energy whenever their blades connected. And his sheer physical power was astonishing. Her own elegant fighting style simply did not generate the muscle power to meet the old man's fighting form in head-to-head combat. Especially not while also keeping an eye out for her possible second attacker and primary target.

She stepped up her own speed in a black burst of dark energy. This time Eleanor made a feinting slash before dropping like a whirling wind into another reverse ankle sweep that slapped the old man's boot sharply enough to throw him off balance. She almost breathed a sigh of relief with the opportunity to slice off the man's legs. Only a glancing blow would be enough to help her finish him, just as she had done with Lovegood.

She drove a series of flashing thrusts toward the man's legs—Only to find herself again facing the wheel of blue lightning that was his blade. He met every one of her thrusts without so much as moving his feet! Blade never moving a millimeter more than was necessary, the geezer deflected without effort, riposting with flickering strikes and stabs swifter than the tongue of an Egyptian ghost viper!

And when she watched him finally regain his feet while continuing to defend himself—this time staying perfectly centered, perfectly balanced—she finally registered the source of that blinding defensive velocity the shabby old man had used a moment ago.

And only then, belatedly, did she understand that his earlier ridiculous tactics had all been a ruse. Her Master had warned her of this from the older generation of Je'daii dogs.

The Third Sword Form.

Resilience Form.

The Way of the Mynock.

Defensive Form.

 _ **Soresu**_.

* * *

Realization burst through her consciousness like the blossoming fireballs of dying stars: this old fool had _**somehow**_ managed to become _entirely dangerous_. This… this _**clown**_ might— _just possibly_ — _ **actually**_ _be able to_ _ **beat**_ _ **her**_.

No sense taking chances; even her Master would agree with that. They could more easily hide her identity with another trick of magic than he could find another apprentice…

Or at least she hoped so…

That blue blade was everywhere, flashing and whirling faster and faster until Eleanor saw the world through an electric haze. It missed her neck by a fraction as she bent away from it.

Closing the dark power around her heart in a final desperate whirlwind of fear, Eleanor sent a blast of magic with all the power she could muster. All the power she had left.

It was so potent and powerful that it was visible to the naked eye as a black cloud that shot forth from her with the explosion of a missile. Her blast knocked the old man from his feet and flat on his back. His sword spun through the air.

For a second she thought it was a trick; but she'd really just knocked it from his hand.

Her blade was at his throat in a heartbeat.

He looked up at her, the scarlet of her sword casting dark shadows on his face and beard. He looked even older now, chest rising and falling as he caught his breath.

"You have me at your mercy. What will you do now, young one?" he spoke softly, but she could see there was no fear in his eyes.

 _ **Why**_!? He should fear her like a _wrathful_ _**God**_!

"Stop calling me _young one_ , _**senile old fool**_! I have _**bested**_ you! My _name_ is _**Eleanor Columbus**_!" she snarled with all the hate her soul could withstand.

"That is the name your Master has given you. A name to keep you chained to his whims and to dispose of you whenever you fail him beyond recover. Or whenever you outlive your usefulness to him."

She actually growled despite herself. " _ **You know nothing, fool! My chains have been broken! Old Magic has freed me! It is my tool! My weapon**_!"

"What you know as old magic is the Force, and you are playing in shadows that hide more demons than can possibly imagine. Dark waters that run still and deep which hide the tendrils that will wrap around you and drown you beneath the surface. Beware that power you wield so casually, child. Respect it. Fear it. Because someday soon… it will turn against you and your Master. Against your whims. And it destroy you as I have seen it destroy greater people…"

She had enough of his Je'daii babbling! She raised her blade high, thinking to strike him down with all her remaining might.

He threw her backward with the flexing of his left hand's fingers. She hit a tree hard enough to hear something crack.

As she staggered to her feet, she saw him casually dust himself off as he summoned his sword back to his hand with the shake of his head. She was going to separate that bearded head from it ancient body… _**the hard way**_.

At the edge of her perceptions, she was jolted as a red blast raced toward her. A quick whirl of her sword saved her as she deflected the spell into a tree where it burned through the bark and straight through the middle. Suddenly, there were more people there with them. All of them opposing her with hostile intent. She could feel it far more clearly than she felt from Lovegood, Potter, or the senile old man. These were just normal witches and wizards, then. She sensed their numbers even before they all gathered around Potter and the old man in a protective fashion. Five of them. She vaguely recognized Ronald Weasley due in part to him giving her the same look he had earlier that night. The redhead threw his arms out, pushing Potter back with one and a bushy-haired witch back with the other.

Hermione Granger, her mind supplied without wasting the thought on it. Brightest witch of her year. Too bad she was only a pathetic Muggleborn, her Master had sneered.

The others must have been Weasleys, too, their red hair and similar features to Ronald giving the fact away. Two of them looked identical. Fred and George Weasley, definitely. So, the young girl must have been Ginevra.

But then, who was it at the edge of her perception that stayed well and out of the way?

And it was not just one, but two.

One masterfully well-hidden. She had to focus to feel that presence, and she couldn't focus for more than a fraction of a second to be sure that she wasn't attacked in her distracted state. It was alright though, she only needed that small a time to be sure she wasn't imagining things.

The second person was sloppy and unrefined. She paid them little mind.

And could feel a third making its way at a snail's pace toward them. This was the one her Master had warned her about previous. To run on sight if she were to encounter. His presence was a beacon of light in the dark night around them.

Ugh, this was fast becoming impossible and deadly. She didn't understand why.

How had she failed so _utterly_ in her mission? How had things turned against her so _badly_?

 _ **How**_?!

She scanned her opposition for any clues — for a lapse in their defense, but couldn't find any.

"If ya wanna get at Harry," Ronald spat with heat and fury as he still held his arms across his friends, "then ya'll just have to kill me, because I'm not moving until I'm _dead_!"

"Leave!" Granger yelled, fumbling with her wand as she brought it up to bear. Her face was white and terrified. She probably realized the futility of such an action. The bushy-haired girl was smart, but knew there was little she could do with magic at her age that would save her from a laser sword.

Eleanor glared at them with all her hatred. They had made her fail. They had kept her from pleasing her Master. They would perish! " _ **YOU WILL ALL DIE AS ONE**_!"

And before she could summon the darkest magic taught to her by her Master, without warning, a voice like a tiger's roar rent the air unlike any she had heard before; and it uttered what sounded like a spell.

" _ **MORSMORDRE**_!"

Something vast, green, and glittering erupted from the patch of darkness behind her foes; it flew up over the treetops and into the sky.

"What the—?" they all gapped in shock, but her more than any as she found the well-hidden presence directly behind her.

One hand clasped firmly upon her shoulder.

"I believe that is effective enough for an escape strategy, child." The voice was like claws digging into her soul.

This person, whoever they were, was in the same league as her Master…

And it terrified her to her core.

She found herself spun on the spot and disappearing.

* * *

There was silence as Harry's friends took the lapse in battle between Obi-Wan Kenobi and Eleanor Columbus to reach him. He allowed them to throw him back behind them, but only because Mr. Kenobi was at the front of them all. He had deactivated his lightsaber, and was watching the dark-haired witch with an expression of remorse. Harry didn't feel bad for her or her dark plans. Misguided though she was to follow any dark lord, Harry was a little past the point of trying to redeem her when she had tried to kill all three Jedi at this point. He had no doubt that she would try and kill his friends next.

He would _not_ let that happen.

" _ **YOU WILL ALL DIE AS ONE**_!" the absolute hatred and repulsion that spilled from her crazed cry was enough to choke a person to death if words had such power.

Then Harry saw her throw her hands back as if about to blast them all with a massive spell. He readied himself to jump in front his friends.

But then, without warning, they were all caught off-guard by a voice unlike any he had heard fleeing through the woods before. It roared to life like a lion, and it uttered, not a panicked shout, but what sounded like a spell.

" _ **MORSMORDRE**_!"

And something vast, green, and glittering erupted behind them. Harry whipped his head around so fast his glasses went askew. His eyes struggled to penetrate the patch of darkness the glimmer was rocketing skyward from; it flew up over the treetops and into the sky.

Next to him Ron gasped, staring up at the thing that had appeared.

For a split second, Harry thought it was one of the leprechaun formations from the Ireland mascots trying to be funny.

Then he realized that it was a colossal skull, comprised of what looked like emerald stars, with a serpent protruding from its mouth like a tongue. As they watched, it rose higher and higher, blazing in a haze of greenish smoke, etched against the black sky like a new constellation.

"I believe that is effective enough for an escape strategy, child." A voice like a well clawed beast of prey said. Harry turned back around to see someone dressed in a thick black cloak and hood grasp Eleanor Columbus by the shoulder. It looked like the hold was tight, and all the color had drained from Eleanor's face as her expression was one of pure terror.

Then the two Disapparated away, gone with only the crack of displaced air in their spot.

But Harry was left no time to worry about the disappearance of the girl who was not five minutes ago trying to kill him. Suddenly, all around them, the woods erupted with screams of horror. Harry didn't understand why, but the only possible cause was the sudden appearance of the skull, which had now risen high enough to illuminate the entire forest like some grisly neon sign. He scanned the darkness for the person who had conjured the skull, but he couldn't see anyone.

* * *

"That seems most unusual," Mr. Kenobi said, stroking his auburn beard, "even for your people. I dare say its ominous. What is it?"

"I've no idea…" Harry muttered even as Hermione had seized the collar of his jacket and was tugging him backward.

"Harry, we have to leave! Come on, move!" she demanded with panic ringing in her voice.

"What's the matter?" Harry said, startled to see her face so white and terrified.

"It's the Dark Mark, Harry!" Hermione pulled him as hard as she could. "You-Know-Who's sign!"

"Voldemort's sign?" he echoed with confusion, but he allowed himself to be manhandled over toward Luna. He and Ron helped her to stand and shoulder her weight as they all moved in a group.

But before they had gotten more than a few hurried steps across the clearing, a series of popping noises announced the arrival of twenty wizards, appearing from thin air, surrounding them.

Harry whirled around, and in an instant, he registered one fact.

Each of these wizards had his wand out.

And every wand was pointing right at them.

Without pausing to think, Harry yelled, "DUCK!"

He seized Hermione and Luna before throwing himself to the ground, taking the girls and Ron with him. Fred and George pushed Ginny down as they were too slow.

Mr. Kenobi remained standing, even as twenty voices roared, "STUPEFY!"

There was a blinding series of flashes and Harry felt the hair on his head ripple as though a powerful wind had swept the clearing. He heard several thumps to the ground.

Raising his head a fraction of an inch, Harry saw jets of fiery red light flying over them from the wizards' wands. Mr. Kenobi's lightsaber was again active as he stood his ground. His jaw was squared, and the man had obviously sensed the danger. As the spells raced toward him, Mr. Kenobi whirled his lightsaber in another impressive show of orbits around himself that blocked every spell. Ten of them went bouncing off tree trunks, rebounding into the darkness, but the other stunning spells had been deflected right back at their attackers. Nine wizards went down with pained grunts. One swished his wand, making a magically conjured shield shimmer in front him. There was a gong-like echo as the spell impacted the shield.

"Stop!" a voice Harry recognized yelled. "STOP! Those are my children!"

Harry leapt to his feet and quickly helped up his friends as his hair stopped blowing about. The wizard in front of him had lowered his wand. Mr. Weasley ran to them, looking terrified.

"Ron — Ginny!" his voice sounded shaky, "Fred — George — are you all right?"

"We're fine, dad." George was the one to speak.

Harry was too busy eyeing the wizards around them wearily; who were, in turn, eyeing Mr. Kenobi warily.

"Harry — Hermione — are you okay—?"

"Out of the way, Arthur," a cold, curt voice snapped suddenly.

It was Mr. Crouch. He and the other Ministry wizards were closing in on them. Mr. Crouch's face was taut with rage.

Harry took ground with Mr. Kenobi. That man had protected them, and the Ministry probably thought he was dangerous because of the lightsaber.

"Which of you did it?" Mr. Crouch snapped, his sharp eyes darting between them. "Which of you conjured the Dark Mark?"

"What?" Fred squawked disbelievingly.

"We didn't do that!" Ginny said, gesturing up at the skull.

"We didn't do anything!" Ron said, rubbing his elbow and looking indignantly at his father. "Some of us have been attacked enough tonight. What'd you go and do us up for?"

"Do not lie!" Mr. Crouch shouted, and they all fell silent. His wand was still pointing directly at Mr. Kenobi, and his eyes were popping — he looked slightly mad. "You have been discovered at the scene of the crime!"

Mr. Kenobi regarded him calmly, though his saber was still ignited. "Sir, I believe you have things mistaken. I was with these adolescents. I even fought a woman minutes earlier defending them. None of us created… that symbol."

"Barty," a witch in a long woolen dressing gown whispered, "they're kids, Barty, they'd never have been able to—"

"Where did the Mark come from?" Mr. Weasley asked quickly.

"Over there," Harry said, pointing at the place where they had heard the voice.

"There was someone behind the trees… they shouted something — an incantation—" Hermione said shakily.

Mr. Crouch turned his popping eyes to Hermione now. "Oh, stood over there, did they?" he said, disbelief etched all over his face. "Said an incantation, did they? You seem very well informed about how that Mark is summoned, missy—"

But none of the Ministry wizards apart from Mr. Crouch seemed to think it remotely likely that Harry, Ron, or Hermione had conjured the skull; on the contrary, at Hermione's words, they had all raised their wands again and were pointing in the direction she had indicated, squinting through the dark trees.

"We're too late," the witch in the woolen dressing gown muttered, shaking her head. "They'll have Disapparated."

"I don't think so," said a wizard with a scrubby brown beard. It was Amos Diggory, Cedric's father. He was looking at Mr. Kenobi with something akin to embarrassment. "Our Stunners… they, uhh, went right through those trees…. There's a good chance we got 'em…"

"Amos, be careful!" a few of the wizards warned as Mr. Diggory squared his shoulders, raised his wand, marched across the clearing, and disappeared into the darkness.

Hermione watched him vanish with her hands over her mouth.

Harry shouldered Luna as she grew tired and anxious. He wrapped a hand around her waist, and she smiled at him in an odd fashion that made his face burn hot.

A couple minute later, they heard Mr. Diggory shout. "Yes! We got them! There's someone here! Unconscious! It's — but — blimey…"

"You've got someone?" Mr. Crouch shouted, sounding highly disbelieving. "Who? Who is it?"

They heard snapping twigs, the rustling of leaves, and then crunching footsteps as Mr. Diggory reemerged from behind the trees. He was carrying a tiny, limp figure in his arms. Harry recognized the tea towel at once.

It was Winky.

Mr. Crouch did not move or speak as Mr. Diggory not-so-gently deposited the female elf on the ground at his feet. The other Ministry wizards were all staring at Mr. Crouch. For a few seconds Crouch remained transfixed, his eyes blazing in his white face as he stared down at Winky.

Then he appeared to come to life again. "This _cannot_ be," he said jerkily. "No, no—" He moved quickly around Mr. Diggory and strode off toward the place where he had found Winky.

"No point, Mr. Crouch," Mr. Diggory called after him. "There's no one else there."

But Mr. Crouch did not seem prepared to take his word for it. They could hear him moving around and the rustling of leaves as he pushed the bushes aside, searching.

"Bit embarrassing," Mr. Diggory said grimly, looking down at Winky's unconscious form. "Barty Crouch's house-elf . . . I mean to say . . ."

"Come off it, Amos," Mr. Weasley snapped quietly, "you don't seriously think it was the house-elf, do you? The Dark Mark's a wizard's sign. It requires a wand for one."

"Yeah," said Mr. Diggory, "and she had a wand."

"What?" said Mr. Weasley.

"Here, look." Mr. Diggory held up a wand and showed it to Mr. Weasley. "Had it in her hand. So that's clause three of the Code of Wand Use broken, for a start. No non-human creature is permitted to carry or use a wand."

Then there was another rustling of forest. Ten wizards turned their wands toward the source of noise. Another few casting lighting charms to help them see better.

And through that new small gape of light and shadow hobbled a diminutive figure, but one seeming taller than all of them at that moment.

"Grandsir Yoda," one of the wizard's breathed, and more than half the conscious wizards around them dropped to a kneeling position. The only ones who remained standing around them were Mr. Kenobi, who was giving Yoda a tired smile, Mr. Diggory, who had his lips thinned and looked incredibly upset with Yoda's arrival, and Mr. Weasley whose head was tilted to one side in confusion.

Yoda hobbled past the wizards to stand in front of Harry. He pointedly tapped Harry with his small cane. "With you, the Force is strong, young Harry Potter," the Jedi Master told him. "Your trails today, far more dangerous they were than first we believed. To see you safe… brings warm feelings to my heart."

"Thank you, Yoda." Harry said, smiling down at his mentor as he felt himself finally relax into the exhaustion that had been looming over him. He dipped a little at the knees, but steadied himself and Luna a moment later. The two teens smiled at each other as Harry finally understood that both Luna and Mr. Kenobi had sensed Yoda's approach while Harry had not been trying to sense anything but the wizards around him.

Yoda turned to address the assembled wizards with a respectfully deep incline of his head. "Greetings to you all. May the Force be with you."

"And with you," more than a few repeated back at him before raising a right hand over their hearts and bowing at the waist, "As it was in the beginning, is now, and should remain until the end of time. Amen."

Just then there was another pop, and Ludo Bagman apparated right next to Mr. Weasley. Looking breathless and disorientated, he spun on the spot, goggling upward at the emerald-green skull.

"The Dark Mark!" he gasped through his panting, almost trampling Winky as he turned inquiringly to his colleagues. "Who did it? Did you get them? Barty? Barty! What's going on?"

Mr. Crouch returned at that moment empty-handed. His face was still ghostly white, and his hands and his toothbrush mustache were both twitching.

"Where have you been, Barty?" Bagman asked, looking concerned. "Why weren't you at the match? Your elf was saving you a seat too — _gulping gargoyles_!"

Bagman had just noticed Winky lying at his feet. "What happened to her?" he asked while stooping down to check her condition.

"I have been busy, Ludo," Mr. Crouch said, still talking in the same jerky fashion, barely moving his lips. "And my elf has been stunned."

"Stunned? By you lot, you mean? But why—?" Comprehension dawned suddenly on Bagman's round, shiny face; he looked up at the skull, down at Winky, and then at Mr. Crouch.

"No!" he said. " _Winky_? Conjure the Dark Mark? She wouldn't know _how_! She'd need a wand, for a start!"

"And she had one," Mr. Diggory started up, taking his eyes off Yoda to confer with Bagman. "I found her holding one, Ludo. If it's all right with you, Mr. Crouch, I think we should hear what she's got to say for herself."

Crouch gave no sign that he had heard Mr. Diggory, but Mr. Diggory seemed to take his silence for assent. He raised his own wand, pointed it at Winky, and said, "Rennervate!"

Winky stirred feebly. Her great brown eyes opened and she blinked several times in a bemused sort of way. Watched by the silent wizards, she raised herself shakily into a sitting position. She caught sight of Mr. Diggory's feet, and slowly, tremulously, raised her eyes to stare up into his face.

Then, more slowly still, she caught sight of Yoda. Harry could see the way her enormous eyes drank in Yoda's appearance as if seeing a fairytale come to life. She held her hands together, muttering words like a prayer as Yoda shook his head with an amused smile.

"Elf!" Mr. Diggory spat sternly. Winky gave a gasp, looked wildly around the crowded clearing, and burst into terrified sobs. "Do you know who I am? I'm a member of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures!"

Hearing this made her cry even louder. She scrambled back from Mr. Diggory on the ground, her breath coming in sharp bursts. Harry was reminded forcibly of Dobby in his moments of terrified disobedience.

"As you see, elf, the Dark Mark was conjured here a short while ago," Mr. Diggory said, gesturing offhandedly toward the green glittering skull and serpent. Winky looked up into the sky. Harry could see the floating skull reflected twice in her enormous, glassy eyes. She gave a gasp and her cries were renewed. "And you were discovered moments later, right beneath it! An explanation, if you please!"

"I is — I — I is not doing it, sir!" Winky gasped. "I is not knowing how, sir!"

"You were found with a wand in your hand!" Mr. Diggory barked, brandishing it in front of her. And as the wand caught the green light that was filling the clearing from the skull above and the light of the wizards around them, Harry recognized it.

Teeth marks and all.

"Hey — that's mine!" Harry said quickly.

Everyone in the clearing looked at him.

"Excuse me?" Mr. Diggory blinked incredulously.

"That's my wand!" Harry said again, then felt around for his jacket pocket. "But — Hang on — Just —"

He had no jacket pocket. In fact, nearly all the left side of his jacket was gone.

"It must have fallen out!"

"It fell out?" repeated Mr. Diggory in disbelief. "Is this a confession? You threw it aside after you conjured the Mark?"

Several people around them gasped as soon as they heard that.

"Amos, think who you're talking to now!" Mr. Weasley snapped, very angrily. "Is Harry Potter likely to conjure the Dark Mark?"

"Er — of course not," Mr. Diggory mumbled, looking as if he had swallowed something foul. "Sorry, sorry… got carried away…"

"Besides, I didn't drop it there, anyway," Harry said, and asked Luna to help him as he stripped off what remained of his jacket. The left side looked to be burned away in in a diagonally line and there was a small nick in the back, right side of the jacket that Harry could have peeked through if he tried. He brandished the jacket like a flag, waving it in both hands for all to see. "We were fighting some evil witch who attacked me. She managed to slice off a piece of my jacket while I fought here. My wand was in the left pocket, but must have fallen out when she cut the side off."

"I did see bits of clothing over there, Amos." Mr. Crouch said, his toothbrush moustache still twitching.

"So," Mr. Diggory's eyes hardened as he turned to look at Winky again, cowering before him. "You found this wand, eh, elf? And you picked it up and thought you'd have some fun with it, did you?"

"I is not doing magic with it, sir!" Winky squealed, tears streaming down the sides of her squashed and bulbous nose. "I is a good and honest elf! I is just picking it up, sir! I is not making the Dark Mark, sir, I is not knowing how!"

"It wasn't her!" Hermione said, looking very nervous to be speaking up in front of all these Ministry wizards, yet determined all the same. "Winky's got a squeaky little voice, and the voice we heard doing the incantation was much deeper!"

She cast a desperate look around at Harry and the others, appealing for their support. "It didn't sound anything like Winky, did it?"

"No," Harry said immediately, him and Luna shaking their heads in unison while the others made confirmative noises. "It definitely didn't sound like an elf at all."

"Yeah, it was definitely a human voice. It even sounded like a man." Ron said as Ginny and the twins agreed with him. "But not an old man, either. Someone around you guys age or younger."

"Well, we'll soon see," Mr. Diggory growled, looking unimpressed. Then he gave another fierce look down at Winky. "There's a simple way of discovering the last spell a wand performed, elf, did you know that?"

Winky trembled and shook her head frantically, her ears flapping, as Mr. Diggory raised his own wand again and placed it tip to tip with Harry's.

"Prior Incantato!" roared Mr. Diggory.

Harry heard Hermione gasp, horrified, as a gigantic serpent-tongued skull erupted from the point where the two wands met, but it was a mere shadow of the green skull high above them; it looked as though it were made of thick gray smoke: the ghost of a spell.

"Deletrius!" Mr. Diggory shouted, and the smoky skull vanished in a wisp of smoke.

"So," Mr. Diggory said with a kind of savage triumph, looking down upon Winky, who was still shaking convulsively.

"I is not doing it!" she squealed, her eyes darting around in terror. "I is not, I is not, I is not knowing how! I is a good elf, sir! I isn't using wands! I isn't knowing how!"

"You've been caught red-handed, elf!" Mr. Diggory roared, advancing on Winky. "Caught with the guilty wand in your hand!"

"Amos enough!" Mr. Weasley said loudly, "Think about this! _All of this_ , not just the elf! Only precious few — _very_ _dark_ — wizards know how to do that spell. Where would she have learned it from, _for starters_?"

"Perhaps… Amos is suggesting," Mr. Crouch said, cold anger in every syllable, "that I routinely teach my servants to conjure the Dark Mark?"

There was a deeply unpleasant silence, quite unlike the horrified gasps that followed Mr. Diggory's accusation toward Harry.

Now it was only Amos Diggory who looked horrified.

"Mr. Crouch… No, no… No, not at all, sir…"

"You have now come _very_ close to accusing the two people in this clearing who are _least_ likely to conjure that Mark!" Mr. Crouch snarled through his teeth. " _Harry Potter_ — and myself! I suppose you are familiar with the boy's story, Amos?"

"Of course — everyone knows, sir—" Mr. Diggory muttered, looking highly discomforted.

"And I trust you remember the _many_ proofs I have given, over a long career, that I _despise and detest_ the Dark Arts and those who practice them?" Mr. Crouch shouted, his eyes bulging again.

"Mr. Crouch, sir, I was only — I would _never_ suggest you had anything to do with it!" Amos Diggory muttered again, now reddening behind his scrubby brown beard.

"If you accuse my elf, you accuse _me_ , Diggory!" Mr. Crouch shouted. "Where _else_ would she have learned to conjure it?"

"It — _She_ … _She_ might've picked it up anywhere, sir, but—"

"Precisely, Amos," Mr. Weasley said, gently but firmly as he placed a hand on Mr. Diggory's shoulder. "She might have picked it up anywhere. So, let me ask her this time?"

Mr. Weasley bent down to Winky, but she flinched back as though he, too, were shouting at her. "Winky? Where exactly did you find Harry Potter's wand?"

"I is finding it there, sir…" she whispered, twisting the hem of her tea towel so violently that it was fraying beneath her fingers "there… in the trees, sir…"

"You see, Amos?" Mr. Weasley said while rising to his feet. "Whoever conjured the Mark could have Disapparated right after they'd done it, leaving Harry's wand behind. A clever thing to do, not using their own wand, which could have betrayed them if caught. And Winky here had the misfortune to come across the wand moments later and pick it up."

"But then, she'd have been only a few feet away from the real culprit!" Mr. Diggory said impatiently. "Elf? Did you see anyone?"

Winky began to tremble worse than ever. Her giant eyes flickered from Mr. Diggory, to Ludo Bagman, to Yoda, and even toward Harry before finally landing onto Mr. Crouch. Then she gulped and said, "I is seeing no one, sir… I is seeing nothing in the dark but flashy blue and red in the distance… I is seeing no one, sir… no one…"

"Hmm… Unseen is much here," Yoda said, the smallest in physical stature, but through his wisdom and strength in the Force, he stood as tall as any of the men in the clearing. Yoda's huge eyes blinked slowly and his tremendous ears swiveled subtly, showing, for those who knew him, that he was deep in thought, giving this situation his utmost attention. The old elf leaned heavily on his gimer stick, and Harry felt a moment of concern for him. "In this darkness, much has happened that could have been avoided. Yet, use this darkness did those who wished to cause fear and panic. Used it to stir painful memories and attack this place, they did. And attack they did, but to what purpose, hmm?"

Yoda closed his eyes in contemplation.

"We don't need the ramblings of some half-crazed elf—" Mr. Diggory started, but both Bagman and Mr. Crouch turned on him with disapproving glares.

"Hold your tongue, man!" Bagman shouted, his face ruddy. "This is Grandsir Yoda, not just some common House-elf or two-bit werewolf thrown in front your department! Any wizarding family worth half their salt has to have at least passed down mention of him! He is as ancient and powerful as the Hogwarts Founders themselves!"

"Except he's still alive!" another wizard threw out.

"The elf-man is legendary, even so far away from his order where they practice ancient and arcane magic." Mr. Crouch supplied in explanation, his moustache twitching again. "And _any_ insight Mr. Yoda can help us gleam from this mess is a welcome Godsend!"

"Definitely," Bagman nodded, looking at Yoda with a curious light in his eyes, "I mean, you must've learned something in the hundreds of years my dear old Gran told me you've been around. And to meet you in person… Why, she'd just be tickled pink!"

A few of the younger Ministry wizards looked confused and were mumbling amongst themselves about what was going on. Turning to look at his friends, Harry was surprised to see the shocked and confused looks on Hermione and Ron's faces.

He could only guess it caught them that Yoda was an elf and not a human like them. He had never thought to mention Yoda's species, mostly because it didn't matter to Harry.

Again, Yoda closed his eyes. "Quick and precise, this mark was created with the use of Harry's wand. And yet, ask ourselves we must… Planned was this attack? Hmm, yes, sense the hand of the Dark side, Yoda does, in this confusion. Worse than what appears, I fear things are. Hmm, yes, much worse."

Mr. Diggory still looked impatient and defiant to Yoda's presence in the clearing, but most of the other wizards seemed to consider Yoda's words with great care.

"The man's right." Mr. Weasley nodded to Yoda's wisdom, "We caught a couple of the masked fellows, but the others Disapparated as soon as we started in on them. Something is going on, and we don't have many answers. Hell, we've hardly any at all!"

"There is still time," Mr. Kenobi ventured into the conversation, "And there are still questions you can ask your rowdy friends about the attack on this place and the separate one on Harry Potter here. Any assistance we can provide in the meantime, we will comply fully… within reason, of course."

"Amos," Mr. Crouch spoke curtly, "I am fully aware that, in the ordinary course of events, you would want to take Winky into your department for questioning. I ask you, however, to allow me to deal with her."

Mr. Diggory looked as though he didn't think much of this suggestion at all, but it was clear to Harry that Mr. Crouch was such an important member of the Ministry that he did not dare refuse him.

"You may rest assured that she will be punished," Mr. Crouch added coldly.

"M-M-Master…" Winky stammered, looking up at Mr. Crouch, her eyes brimming with tears. "M-Master, p-please…"

Mr. Crouch stared back, his face somehow sharpened, each line upon it more deeply etched. There was no pity in his gaze.

"Winky has behaved tonight in a manner I would not have believed possible," he said slowly. "I told her to remain in the tent. I told her to stay there while I went to sort out the trouble. And I find that she has disobeyed me. This means… _clothes_!"

"NO!" Winky shrieked, prostrating herself at Mr. Crouch's feet. "No, master! Not clothes, not clothes!"

Harry knew that the only way to turn a house-elf free was to present it with proper garments. It was pitiful to see the way Winky clutched at her tea towel as she sobbed over Mr. Crouch's feet.

"But she was frightened!" Hermione burst out angrily, glaring at Mr. Crouch. "Your elf's scared of heights, and those wizards in masks were levitating people! You can't blame her for wanting to get out of their way!"

Mr. Crouch took a step backward, freeing himself from contact with the elf, whom he was surveying as though she were something filthy and rotten that was contaminating his over-shined shoes.

It was a much different look than the respectful and equal gaze he gave Yoda.

"I have no use for a house-elf who disobeys me," he said coldly, looking over at Hermione. "I have no use for a servant who forgets what is due to her master, and to her master's reputation."

Winky was crying so hard that her sobs echoed around the clearing. There was a very nasty silence, which was ended by Mr. Weasley, who said quietly, "Barty, there's no need to go quite so far. Where will she go? What will she do? You might as well be throwing her in front of Amos now—"

Mr. Crouch cast his cold glare over to Mr. Weasley, "If there is such a problem with my handling of this elf, then you have her! I have no use for her. I wash my hands of her!"

"I didn't… well… I never…" Mr. Weasley was caught between Mr. Crouch's cold gaze and Hermione's pleading eyes. He took a deep breath, and then squared his shoulders. "Yes. Yes, I'll look after her for a few days. You'll come back to your senses by then, Barty. She had nothing to do with this whole mess, we can all see that now. A simple mistake."

Mr. Crouch's eyes seemed to soften a bit at Mr. Weasley's acceptance.

"Keep her, Arthur. She'll not besmirch my name ever again." Mr. Crouch said, and Mr. Weasley shook his head as he turned to Mr. Diggory.

"Well, I think we'll take our leave, if nobody's got any objections. Amos, that wand has told us all it can — if Harry could have it back, please."

Mr. Diggory seemed disgruntled about the whole thing, but handed Harry his wand and Harry pocketed it in his jeans immediately.

"Mr. Yoda, Mister…." Mr. Weasley must have realized that he didn't know Mr. Kenobi name and had basically been ignoring the man's presence as he made sure Harry and the others were safe.

"Obi-Wan Kenobi, at your service." Mr. Kenobi gave a small bow of respect. Mr. Weasley inclined his head in the same manner.

"Well, if you two will just follow us, then we'll get everyone out of here." Mr. Weasley said quietly.

But even as Harry helped Luna limp away, Hermione didn't seem to want to move; her eyes were still upon the sobbing elf that was now being approached by Mr. Kenobi.

"Hermione!" Mr. Weasley said, more urgently.

She turned and followed Harry, Luna and Ron out of the clearing and off through the trees. Behind them were the twins and Ginny with Mr. Kenobi now carrying Winky as she cried into his robes. Yoda slowly hobbled alongside Mr. Kenobi as they made the trip back through the woods toward the campsite.

"What's going to happen to her?" Hermione asked, the moment they had left the clearing.

"I don't know," Mr. Weasley said. "We'll keep her around for a few days, and then Mr. Crouch will be back in the right frame of things. Not long."

"The way they were treating her!" Hermione was furious. "Mr. Diggory, calling her 'elf' all the time — and Mr. Crouch! He _knows_ she didn't do anything wrong and he's still acting like she did! He didn't care how frightened she'd been, or how upset she was — it was like she wasn't even human!"

"Well, she's not," Ron said even Hermione rounded on him.

"That doesn't mean she hasn't got feelings, Ron. It's disgusting the way—"

"Agreed, we all are in your opinion." Yoda said suddenly, "But her job, from what I have gleamed of the situation, was that of a servant. Ordered, she was, to stay in his tent. Disobeyed that order, she obviously did. And now, because of that disobedience, in the middle of a terrible chain of events, she was. Luckily, killed, she was not."

"Hermione, I agree with you," Mr. Weasley said quickly, beckoning her on from where she had turned angrily this time to Yoda, an elf basically condemning the actions of another elf, "We all do, but now is not the time to discuss elf rights. I want to get back to the tent as fast as we can. I want to see my other sons safe. I want us all as far away from here as soon as magically possible."

Mr. Weasley turned toward Harry and Luna, Mr. Kenobi and Yoda. "Then I want to know exactly what happened to you all. Every last detail."

"What I'd like to know is why everyone seemed so angry about Voldemort's mark being in the sky? He's supposed to be dead over ten years now."

"I'll explain everything back at the Burrow. First, we get to the tent and get out of here." Mr. Weasley said tensely, and that was the end of the conversations.

* * *

 **A/N: That ends events at the World Cup. Now begins the flow of consequences that stem from such an event. This starts the new arc in the story.**

 **Until Next Time, See Ya!**


	11. Tales of the Jedi, Part 1

**A/N: In this arc before returning to school, Harry and his friends will learn a lot about the Jedi. They will also have a fair few questions for the Jedi that are obvious and a little personal considering their cultural differences.**

 **Chapter 11: Tales of the Jedi, Part 1**

* * *

Obi-Wan stood beside Master Yoda, watching as the native man, Arthur Weasley, calmed the crowd of frightened-looking humans who congregated near the edge of the woods. He could feel their fear without trying. Yoda leaned heavily onto his walking stick, a sign that he would be observing the interactions with a critical eye. Obi-Wan agreed with the reaction, bringing his arms together in the sleeves of his tunic. His simple brown robe had been left on the ship.

As soon as their group had reached the edge of the wood, their progress was impeded. A large crowd of frightened-looking individuals was congregated there, and when they saw Mr. Weasley coming toward them, many of them surged forward.

"What's going on in there?"

"Who conjured it?"

"Arthur — it's not — Him?"

"Of course it's not Him," Arthur said, his patience probably wearing thin. Obi-Wan had to wonder who this 'Him' person they were referring to, but kept quiet all the same. "We don't know who it was; it looks like they Disapparated. Now excuse me, please, I need to make it back home."

Yoda and Obi-Wan exchanged a look. Years of working together in the name of the Republic and sitting together on the Jedi Council had gifted them the ability to commune with each other through expressions alone. Yoda's look said that he had more questions than answers. Obi-Wan knew his facial expression was one that clearly read how he hoped to get those answers they wanted soon.

Behind them sobbed Winky the 'house-elf' as she was referred to. Harry Potter and Luna Lovegood had explained that it basically meant she was of the serving class to important 'wizards' in their community. It sounded uncivilized to Obi-Wan, but then again, he didn't have a very high opinion of the wizards to begin with.

Arthur Weasley led the group through the crowd and back into the campsite. All was quiet now; there was no sign of the masked wizards from before, though several ruined tents were still smoking. Winky's quiet sobs were loud in the silence.

Another of Arthur's family, judging by his similar appearance and youth, poked his red-haired head out of a tent in front the group. "Dad, what's going on?" the young man called through the dark. "Me, Bill, and Percy got back okay, but the others—"

"I've got them here," Mr. Weasley said, bending down and entering the tent.

Obi-Wan watched curiously as the others crawled into the tiny tent immediately after Arthur without hesitation. Yoda and Obi-Wan exchanged another look before following as well.

Obi-Wan had to hold back his gasp at the fact that he came _walking_ into a small apartment-like dwelling.

What in the name of the _Force_ was this… this sorcery?

Yoda looked around, making humming noises at the back of his throat. Obi-Wan knew that Yoda was just as shocked as he was. It was impossible not to be! Harry came over to make light of the situation, seeming to convey casualness as he jokingly told them about his own first experience with such tents only yesterday. Harry Potter probably suspected that they had some experience with his world's 'magic', but the closest thing Obi-Wan could think of were the Witches of Dathomir, and even they didn't have this type of convenience.

Honesty! Tents that were bigger on the inside than his living quarters had been back at the Jedi Temple!

His opinion of the wizards had risen just a tad bit.

Sitting at the small table was another young man who was obviously of the Weasley clan. He had longer hair than any of the other males, and seemed the eldest aside from Arthur. Perhaps a first-born son, nephew, or even younger brother to Arthur. The boy was holding a thin sheet to his arm, which was bleeding profusely. The redhead from earlier had a large rip in his shirt, and the last of the newly discovered Weasleys, this one wearing horn-rimmed glasses, was sporting a bloody nose.

It seemed that they all had gotten as good a roughing as Harry and Luna did. Obi-Wan briefly wondered if they had fought the masked wizards, or maybe a dark apprentice. He took the time to glance over to where Harry was unconsciously rubbing the right side of his back.

"Did you get them, Dad?" the eldest youngster with the bleeding arm asked sharply. "The person who conjured the Mark? Did you?"

"No," Arthur shook his head. "We found Barty Crouch's elf here holding Harry's wand, but we're none the wiser about who actually conjured the Mark."

"What?" the three new boys said together.

"Harry's wand?" the redhead with the ripped shirt echoed.

"Mr. Crouch's elf?" the one in glasses sounded dumbstruck. Then his eyes landed on Winky with surprise.

"That can all wait for later." Arthur clapped his hands together once. "Boys, I want you to meet Mr. Yoda and Mr. Obi-Wan Kenobi. They'll be with us for a little while as we get this whole mess sorted out. Winky as well, though she'll probably be back with Mr. Crouch soon."

Arthur turned kind eyes toward Obi-Wan and Yoda. Obi-Wan projected calm feeling through the Force. "Sirs, these are my eldest children. The long-haired one is William, but we all call him Bill. The thicker one is Charles, but we call him Charlie. Then the one in glasses is Percival, but he's Percy to us. Boys, Mr. Kenobi helped quell the most dangerous wizards as you went to help the other camps. And Mr. Yoda here is… Well, he's the one that has been helping Harry this summer to learn a bit of extra magic. Show them the proper respect and everyone on their best behaviors. Just like Harry, they are our guests."

"What about Luna?" the young man named Bill pointed out, and Arthur, who had already looked uncomfortable since mentioning Yoda, actually flinched in embarrassment at having forgot Luna Lovegood.

"Ahh, yes, Luna! I'm so terribly sorry." Arthur whipped his wand forward in a stabbing motion. The nearest unoccupied chair zoomed over toward Luna and Harry. Luna had been leaning heavily on a table with minimal assistance from Harry, but was now seated comfortably in the chair. "I'll make a call Xenophilius as soon as we're home. He must be worried sick."

"I'll be fine." Luna said airily.

Obi-Wan felt bad for her. He knew what she was going through. As soon as he had seen her wounds, he had been reminded of his first encounter against Count Dooku. He still bore the scars of that time.

Only six standard years ago to this very day, but with everything that had occurred between then and now… It all felt like an entire lifetime ago…

"Now, boys, we are leaving." Arthur said with another clap of his hands as his eldest children were about to launch more questions at him. "I don't want your mother finding out about this mess from anyone but her perfectly safe family in our perfectly safe home. So, I'm going to pack everything away. You boys — meaning Bill, Charlie, and Percy — start taking the others to the Portkeys and head back to the Burrow. I will Apparate back home as soon as possible. Now go, get to it."

Yoda spoke up before he could get a word out. "Our own transportation, we will have. Find you through the Force we shall, Harry."

Harry smiled at them, looking haggard, but relieved. "I can understand the feeling. I don't think I much like Portkeys, either. If I didn't need to lead you guys to the Weasley house through actually being there, then I'd love to hitch a ride with you."

"I'll take that ride, actually." Luna spoke from the chair she was in beside Harry. "I don't think I'm in the right condition for Portkeys or to be sidelong-Apparated. I nice slow ride would be very appreciated. I can even guide you to where I live, since I stay in close proximity to where the others are going. We won't be, but a few minutes behind them."

"Of course," Obi-Wan agreed, though was mentally debating if he needed to hide the ship from the primitives of this world or not. Truthfully, his _Nu_ -class starship was nothing to gawk at, but the planet was so far beyond even the Outer Rim that Obi-Wan was worried the locals would try to scavenge it for spare parts or something.

Obi-Wan watched as Arthur Weasley used magic to pack up the tent before he went to do the next one. It was amazing what these people could accomplish with their brand of the Force. Yoda had his own opinion however, calling it cheap and lazy. Obi-Wan would reserve his thoughts for more displays of this magic. The convenience was an easy trap to fall into, but Obi-Wan was sure that at least some of the natives had went onto learn of the higher purposes of the Force. They knew about Yoda and the Jedi Order, and Luna seemed to be a well-trained Jedi apprentice. The girl even had a lightsaber, one that he saw Harry hand back to her with thanks.

The three of them headed in the direction of the ship. They parted ways with the Weasleys and Harry after passing a man at the door of a small cottage. He had a strange, dazed look about him, and he waved them off with a vague "Merry Christmas."

"He'll be all right," Arthur assured everyone quietly as they marched off onto the moor. "Sometimes, when a person's memory's modified, it makes him a bit disorientated for a while… and tonight was a big thing they had to make him forget."

"Oh dear," Obi-Wan said before he could stop himself. So, they used the Mind Trick against their own kind as well. From having so recently been victim to it, Obi-Wan could sympathize with the man a little. "Hopefully he has a better time of it than I did."

Yoda. Vile little green man that he was had the gall to laugh at him.

* * *

As they approached the spot where the Portkeys lay, Harry heard urgent voices. When they reached the place, they found a great number of witches and wizards gathered around Basil, the keeper of the Portkeys, all clamoring to get away from the campsite as quickly as possible.

Mr. Weasley had a hurried discussion with Basil; they joined the queue, and were able to take an old rubber tire back to Stoatshead Hill before the sun had really risen. They walked back through Ottery St. Catchpole and up the damp lane toward the Burrow in the dawn light, talking very little.

They were all so exhausted. Ron's only thoughts were lovingly of their breakfast. Hermione kept muttering for a hot bath. Ginny wanted a bed so badly that she leaned into Harry's back as they trudged onward.

All Harry wanted was for Yoda and Mr. Kenobi to find him quickly so they could finish talking about everything that had occurred in the aftermath of the Quidditch World Cup.

As they stepped into the yard, a cry echoed along the lane.

"Oh thank goodness, thank goodness!" Mrs. Weasley, her face pale and strained, came flying out of the house, running toward them. Still wearing her bedroom slippers, she had evidently been waiting for them.

Trailing out the door at a slower pace toward them was a man who looked eccentric, even by wizard standards. He had shoulder-length blond hair that was the texture of candyfloss. He wore a cap with a tassel that dangled in front of his nose and robes that were such a bright shade of yellow that they made Harry's eyes water as the street lights flashed off them. The man said nothing as he stopped behind Mrs. Weasley when she reached the group, only smiled at them with a tiny wave of his hand to greet them.

"Arthur — I've been so worried — _so worried_ —" Mrs. Weasley flung her arms around Mr. Weasley's neck, kissing him thoroughly and without end as she littered him with pecks. Harry and the others looked away just in time to see that an owl was swooping overhead to drop papers onto lawns and what looked like a tiny airplane was about to land on the other side of town.

"What is that?" Ron googled, but so was Hermione.

Harry shrugged. He wasn't much concerned with it at the moment unless it contained Yoda, Luna, and Mr. Kenobi.

However, his senses told him it did when after a moment, he felt Yoda's presence without meaning to.

"I think it was Mr. Kenobi and Yoda. They were on that thing. They've just made it." Harry said, focusing his Force sense to be sure he wasn't just imagining things.

Mrs. Weasley didn't care about any of that though as she finally pulled back a little from her husband.

"You're all right," Mrs. Weasley muttered distractedly, releasing Mr. Weasley and staring around at them all with red eyes, "you're all alive… Oh _boys_ …!"

And to everybody's surprise, she seized Fred and George and pulled them both into such a tight hug that their heads banged together.

" _Ouch_! Mum — you're _strangling_ us—"

"I was short with you before you left!" Mrs. Weasley said, starting to sob. "It's all I've been thinking about! What if You-Know-Who had got you, and the last thing we talked about was that you didn't get enough O.W.L.s? Oh Fred… oh George…"

Harry smiled at the display despite his tired body. Over their shoulders, Yoda was approaching while Mr. Kenobi shouldered Luna the distance. The man in bright yellow, who must have been Luna's father, turned on heel to meet the three halfway before he directed them toward the Burrow.

"Come on now, Molly, we're all perfectly okay," Mr. Weasley said soothingly, prizing her off the twins and leading her back into the yard of the house where the Jedi and the Lovegoods were waiting for them.

"Bill," Mr. Weasley added in an undertone, "pick up the paper, I want to see what it says…"

"Mrs. Weasley, if you don't mind my asking," Hermione began as they moved into the Burrow's living room, "But how did you know what happened at the Quidditch World Cup? We just left only minutes ago!"

"The wireless has been running it for hours! I was listening in as I had a night snack…" Mrs. Weasley seized her husband's arm tightly. He flinched. "They were talking about the game's outcome when the narrator started shouting about wizards causing a ruckus! Then I heard about were fires! Muggles being tortured! And… and… and — the Dark Mark!"

Mrs. Weasley clutched her heart and leaned heavily on Mr. Weasley.

"To think… Death Eaters appearing at the Quidditch World Cup with my family there… My heart…"

"Death Eaters?" Harry echoed in confusion. "What are Death Eaters?"

"It's what You-Know-Who's supporters called themselves," Bill said with a frown. "I think we saw what's left of them tonight — the ones who managed to keep themselves out of Azkaban, anyway."

"We can't prove it was them, Bill," Mr. Weasley argued before shaking his head hopelessly. "Though it probably was…"

"Yeah, I bet it was!" Ron suddenly shouted. "When we were going to help Harry, we ran into Draco Malfoy in the woods! He good as told us his dad was one of those nutters in masks! And we all know the Malfoys were right in with You-Know-Who!"

"But why were Voldemort's supporters—" Harry began. Everybody flinched. "Sorry, but really — What were they up to, levitating Muggles? I mean, what was the point? Eleanor Columbus was trying to make me join her Master, and when I refused, she tried to kill me. I don't see the point of what the others we up to."

Mrs. Weasley had gasped at that last bit, but Mr. Weasley only gave a hollow laugh. "The point? Harry, that's their idea of _fun_. Half the Muggle killings back when You-Know-Who was in power were done for fun. I suppose they had a few drinks tonight and couldn't resist reminding us all that lots of them are still at large."

"Sounds like a nice little reunion for them," Harry finished disgustedly.

"But if they were the Death Eaters, why did they Disapparate when they saw the Dark Mark?" Ron asked. "They'd have been pleased to see it, wouldn't they?"

"Use your brains, little brother," Bill said with the shake of his head. "If they really were Death Eaters, they worked very hard to keep out of Azkaban when You-Know-Who lost power, and told all sorts of lies about him forcing them to kill and torture people. I bet they'd be even more frightened than the rest of us to see him come back."

"They denied they'd ever been involved with him when he lost his powers, and went back to their daily lives... I don't reckon he'd be over-pleased with them, do you?" Charlie finished with a disgusted sound.

"So whoever conjured the Dark Mark," Hermione put it all together quickly "they were doing it to show support for the Death Eaters?

"Or to scare them away." Harry put his hands behind his back in a thinking posture. "Something tells me they needed a quick end to everything that was going on. That girl I found in the woods escaped with someone in black robes. She said she didn't work for You-Know-Who, but she also lied about her name… The person who rescued her had to be a Death Eater, and probably was the one who cast the Dark Mark."

"Your guess is as good as ours, Harry," Mr. Weasley sighed tiredly. "But I'll tell you this… it was only the Death Eaters who ever knew how to conjure it. I'd be very surprised if the person who did it hadn't been a Death Eater once, even if they're not now…"

"You fought?" Mrs. Weasley echoed in horror. "Oh but Harry, you're just a boy!"

"And I was attacked," Harry sighed. "Luna and I fought her, but we were each defeated. She was too well-trained for us. She got away after Mr. Kenobi made short work of her."

With some assistance from Harry, Ron, and Hermione on their perspectives in the chaos, Mr. Weasley explained what had happened in the woods to his wife and the rest of his family. When they had finished their story, Percy swelled indignantly.

"Well, Mr. Crouch is quite right to get rid of an elf like that!" he said. "Running away when he'd expressly told her not to… embarrassing him in front of the whole Ministry… how would that have looked, if she'd been brought up in front of the Department for the Regulation and Control—"

"She didn't do anything — she was just in the wrong place at the wrong time!" Hermione snapped at Percy, who looked very taken aback. Hermione had always got on fairly well with Percy — better, indeed, then any of the others.

"Hermione, a wizard in Mr. Crouch's position can't afford a house-elf who's going to run amok with a wand!" Percy chided pompously, recovering himself.

"She didn't run amok!" Hermione shouted. "She just picked it up off the ground!"

"In a place, you should remember, _she was not meant to be_!" Percy shot back hotly.

There was silence for a moment as perhaps the two biggest know-it-alls in all of Hogwarts history glared at one another. Harry was torn between ending his exhaustion with some much-needed sleep, or going outside to speak with Yoda and Mr. Kenobi on his fight with the obvious dark-sider at the World Cup.

Thankfully, Mr. Weasley made the choice for him when he turned his eyes in Harry's direction. "It's still pretty late… or pretty _early_ as the case were, but I think we should invite Xenophilius and his daughter inside. Along with Mr. Yoda and Mr. Kenobi, as they've been outside long enough for us to be settled. Harry, please invite them in while Molly and I put on a pot of tea."

"Yes sir," Harry said, darting toward the door as fast as his weary legs would travel.

When he opened the door, he was surprised to see Yoda and Mr. Kenobi glaring at one another.

* * *

Here was best, Yoda thought. Every rolling hill and even the semi-organic houses hummed with a gently warm comfort to them. Through the senses of the Force, the tiny green Jedi Master could feel both the strength and coziness of these wizards who lived in relative seclusion from the rest of their world. It reminded him of the Jedi, but in a far less isolated manner. And from what Xenophilius Lovegood — father to the young Force-sensitive girl, Luna Lovegood — had told them through a bout of pleasant conversation as they introduced themselves, these lands had been home to wizards for thousands of years. Only in the last hundred years or so had 'muggles' — non-magical, or rather those not attuned to the Force — moved into the area. Everything within the area and town echoed with a kind of unspoken harmony where one person enjoyed the presence of those next to them. To stand in places like this was the same as when he visited Naboo during Senator Amidala's time as queen. It was to inhale serenity.

To Yoda, this was a great gift in troubled times.

But when he looked up at Xenophilius and his daughter, his eyes were slightly wide with shock and confusion. His ears had flattened back along his wrinkled head.

"Known have I, that served the Force long before there was a Galactic Republic, the Jedi Knights did… And serve it we did when crumbled into dust and a dark empire rose from it…" Yoda gripped his gimer stick tightly in when clawed hand. "But never would I assume to know that, as far from that galactic center as this planet, another sect of the Jedi would we find living and thriving…"

"And your order seems very old, in fact. The Jedi Order has not been called Je'daii in _at_ _least_ many thousands of years." Obi-Wan stated off-handedly, his own look of shock turning into one of curiosity.

Had he hoped this man and his daughter had escaped Order 66 and found their way here? Or perhaps been a part of that rogue sect of Jedi which Ashoka Tano had run into during the early months of the Clone Wars? Yes and yes, but that only made for different questions to be answered.

"Indeed," Xenophilius said with an air of calm as he took off his tasseled hat and held it in his hands. He looked at it with an expression of far off nostalgia. "I remember when my mother first taught me of our founding as her father had done for her, and his father for him. My mother explained to me that our order began before time was recorded, but in truth it had only been before wizards thought to record events, unlike our Muggle-counterparts had been doing for many years before us. I believe recent evidence in the last hundred years or so place the Je'daii Order arriving on Earth at the conclusion of a terrible war."

"Well, that seems about right…" Obi-Wan agreed, nervous hands brought together in the sleeves of his brown robe so as not to fidget in public view. "The Je'daii Order was split when one group wished only to use their knowledge and power in order to protect the weak and innocent. The other group only wanted to consolidate power and rule the galaxy. The light and the dark."

"The ways of Ashla and Bogan, Master Kenobi." Xenophilius supplied, setting his hat down on a rock before pacing slowly back and forth. "From what our most ancient texts had recorded of that time before the Great Fires of Kenurath Temple, it was said that the two sides devolved into fighting over ideologic difference between one which held the Ashla as the main power of good in the universe, and another whose members found power only in the ways of Bogan. Instead of seeking the balance as they had been taught, they fought one another in what would become known to our people as the Great Divide."

"In the history of the Jedi Order, known as the Force Wars, the conflict was." Yoda pointed out in a hushed tone. It was rare for Obi-Wan to feel curiosity ebb off the ancient Grandmaster. He found his nerves melt away in the way someone could hold Master Yoda's attention so raptly. "And out of it rose the Jedi Order."

"And from it escaped those who drifted among the stars until they arrived here in a miracle of the Force." Xenophilius looked happy with this part of history. "They appeared before the native men and women, proving to them that they meant no harm and only wished to live in peace. From them came the first teachings of Ashla and with them the first wizards learned to control magic through themselves instead of through blood rituals and sacrifices."

"Oh," Obi-Wan started mildly, "how lovely…"

"I know how it sounds, Master Kenobi, but magic had been known to early wizards for at least a thousand years before the arrival of the displaced Je'daii. However, ancient wizards of that age believed that in order to harness magic, they had to bury themselves alive so as to be one with the Earth, or eat the heart of a living man to get their rituals to work properly."

Obi-Wan and Yoda's faces showed disgust, but Xenophilius only shook his head with soft laughter. To him it seemed the foolishness of one who thought they could fly without the aid of a broom before landing flat on their face.

"With the arrival of Ashla's Chosen, the way of the world changed as well. They brought with them knowledge and wisdom far beyond anything the early people of our world had ever understood. And yet…" Xenophilius' face darkened a bit as he went on, "with their overwhelming light, beasts of darkness were attracted to the beacon of peace they created. These servants of Bogan came and slaughtered everything until the Je'daii fought them to a standstill. Then the evil ones slipped into the shadows of time, becoming sneaky and cunning to make up for what they lacked in their ability to kill the Je'daii that had survived them. The Je'daii passed down their wisdom and knowledge, but so too did the vile servants of Bogan. In the early men, they sowed seeds of greedy and lust, crafting entire dynasties around the ideals of power and superiority."

"I never would have guessed such darkness existed so far away from the galactic center…" Obi-Wan gave a sigh of long suffering, "I suppose it was too good to hope for…"

"No, never," Xenophilius expressed a hardness that belied his mellow aura. "They may whisper in as many ears as they like, but as Je'daii—as _Jedi_ , as it were—we must stand fast against them. To do otherwise would be to betray our most revered ethics."

"That day has already passed, my friend." Obi-Wan closed his eyes, using all his years of Jedi self-control to keep the pain from reaching his heart as it had over the past five years. The wound of Anakin's betrayal was no longer fresh, but it opened and bled every so often.

Yoda shot a look at Obi-Wan, who didn't shy away from it as he would have before they became the last of their sect.

"Our own mistakes, those were. Burden others with them, we will not. And the darkness has not yet won, Obi-Wan. Stand firm we still do. Stand firm, we _must_. Even as we are now, hope still remains."

Obi-Wan shot a look of frustration back at Yoda. He was not a child anymore, nor was he the Jedi he used to be. He had changed, and it was about time Yoda saw a side of him that he had bottled away for far too long. "As you've said for half a decade now. The galaxy's best hope is farming moisture from _Tatooine_ , and here we are wasting time with philosophy! With this backwater little planet! With these people and their problems! Our entire galaxy is held in the iron grip of a man we sat across us without the least bit of suspicion in our eyes, and you want to be _here_ training some far-gone boy who disobeys you the first moment he's out of sight!"

"Disobey me, he has not!" Yoda denied strongly, "But acted without my approval or council, that much is true. A part of that hope for the galaxy, he can become."

Behind the two stood Luna and Xenophilius, simply watching them without a word.

"Luke is our hope!" Obi-Wan exploded, having long ago thought to never even breath the name of a boy that shouldn't have existed in the first place.

If _Anakin_ had been faithful to the Jedi.

If Padme had been as sensible as he once thought her.

If they had respected him as their friend _at all_.

If _Anakin_ had been honest and trustworthy to Obi-Wan.

" _You_ led me to believe that! _Qui-Gon_ led me to believe that! It was the entire reason we disappeared from the galaxy! Why we didn't muster a resistance of the people against the Empire!"

"And prevail he shall against Sidious and Vader." Yoda had calmed his tone, but his eyes were like that of a slumbering panther.

"Then why is he not to be trained? Why is he to suffer? Why am I not to help him, but expected to rush here for this boy you've taken such an interest in?"

"Because a lesson in this you will learn too, _Master_ Kenobi." Yoda's words were sharp enough to cut through a lightsaber, but Obi-Wan endured them and glared right back.

"I'm tired of lessons and sand and _watching_ as people suffer in the cruel hands of… of…"

"Of Vader? Hmm?" Yoda struck the ground with his gimer stick. "Called you here, I have. Help train Harry Potter, you will. Learn from him, you will. Much to teach each other, the two of you will have."

"And his friends?" Obi-Wan had never felt his lips curl in resentment before. It was a new experience to him.

"Learn with him from you, they will. Teach you as well, they shall." Yoda said simply, but the look on his face brokered no arguments. Obi-Wan would do this, or… he didn't know what would happen. Suddenly, he felt as though he were back at the Temple being scolded by the ancient Grandmaster alongside Bruck Chun.

It made him angry all over again.

Yoda shook his head, his face softening into a sad and somber look. Yoda looked tired. Old. As though eight hundred years had suddenly come upon him in a single instance, and all he could do was weather the storm of them. "Much to learn you still have, Obi-Wan. Your thoughts linger on times now past. To a dark place, this mental line will lead you. Great care, you must take. To hold such pain so close, but to never let it heal… destroy you _it_ _will_."

"To know what I had a hand in creating…" Obi-Wan glared, and Yoda's glare was back. "I have half a mind to race that junker of a ship of mine right back to Tatooine!"

"And what would you do, hmm? If so strongly you feel, then convince me it is right!" Yoda said severely, stamping his gimer stick. "All is not understanding at once! Of this, an old lesson you have forgot! In more ways than one is the lesson taught. Learn will Luke from his life. Learn compassion and humanity, things not so easily taught! When a time for him to learn from Obi-Wan Kenobi is to come, _know_ _it_ in heart and mind you will. But for now… _for_ _now_ , stay and learn and teach here, you must. Learn they must from you and I. Learn will we, from them and their kind."

Obi-Wan was about to retort about the other child—Princess Leia as she was now called—but he was interrupted when Harry Potter stepped out of the house. Obi-Wan suddenly became aware of the world around him. Of Luna and her father. Of his outbursts. Of his frustration.

Of his anger.

Of his…

Oh great Force, _no_ …

He and Yoda didn't school their expressions quick enough to hide them from the sharp eyes of the Potter boy. The boy had seen them, and even worse; probably felt them in the Force. Obi-Wan inclined his head respectfully to Yoda, who had saved him and guided him as a Master since infancy. He should not have lashed out the way he did. It was unbecoming of him and wholly misdirected.

Obi-Wan would have instantly excused himself for mediation, reflection, and self-imposed punishment in the form of seclusion, but Harry Potter was saying something about being invited to stay with the Weasley family. He did not pay much attention. He simply bowed his head and followed in Yoda's footsteps as a Padawan would have done to their Jedi Master.

As Anakin had once done with him.

As he too did with Qui-Gon.

As Quin-Gon to Dooku.

As Dooku to Yoda.

As the cycle repeated and began anew.

He watched while Xenophilius spoke with Yoda and Arthur Weasley about the skirmish they had stopped. Xenophilius politely invited him and Yoda to lodge with them since the Weasley family were already accommodating Harry Potter and his bushy-haired female friend. Yoda graciously accepted, and Obi-Wan stayed silent all the way up until they parted ways to meet back around evening of the same day. Until then, all parties were to get some much-needed rest.

Even as he lay looking up at the ceiling of a room provided to him in the Lovegoods' home, the only things to cross Obi-Wan's weary mind were Anakin, Luke, and Harry Potter. His vast amount of Jedi exercises came and passed him in an attempt to ease into sleep. It was at least two hours into lying awake that he finally cleared his mind of all thoughts and dozed off dreamlessly.

* * *

 **A/N: So now we see that the Je'daii Order has been on Earth for a long time. Long enough to rise and fall a number of times until only few still believe in it and its creed. Few is more than enough, though. We also see that the Sith have been around nearly as long, and have been defeated and reformed enough that few remain. But few enough. It's all very "history repeats itself no matter where you are".**


	12. Tales of the Jedi, Part 2

**Chapter 12: Tales of the Jedi, Part 2**

* * *

Everybody got up late that afternoon. After the attack on the Quidditch World Cup, the Burrow was much quieter than Harry had ever known it to be before the start of school term. As he and Ron rolled out of bed and sleeping bag, many yawns punctuated their lazy conversation.

Downstairs in the sitting room, Hermione's hair was even bushier than normal. She ignored Ron's sleepy comments about it, choosing instead to only half-hearted glare at him while drinking a mug of orange bubbling brew that stemmed purple smoke. Harry wondered what it was, but Mrs. Weasley bustled him and Ron into the kitchen for a very late "breakfast", telling him that Hermione's drink was a "woman's issue" when he asked. He couldn't possibly figure out what that meant while so tired, and simply accepted the answer at face value.

Harry did take notice of one more thing over their bowls of porridge and stewed sugar plums. Ron and Hermione seemed to have reached an unspoken agreement not to discuss anything relating to Yoda or the Force while the other members of the Weasley family were in earshot. His best friends were being quite friendly to each other, though oddly formal. Harry wasted no time filling them in on every detail of his confrontation with the dark lady, Eleanor Columbus, and even Hermione could tell that was not the woman's real name.

When breakfast was over, Mr. Weasley threw down the Daily Prophet newspaper onto the table with a disgusted sound. Looking down, Harry saw the headline: _SCENES OF TERROR AT THE QUIDDITCH WORLD CUP_ , complete with a twinkling black-and-white photograph of the Dark Mark over the treetops.

Hermione handed Mrs. Weasley a cup of very strong tea she made while having a very hushed conversation with her over by the stove top. Mr. Weasley insisted on pouring a shot of Ogdens Old Firewhiskey into the cup for her, and then for himself after picking up the paper and handing it across the table to Bill, who had asked for it.

"I knew it," Mr. Weasley said heavily after a swig of his drink. "Ministry blunders… culprits not apprehended… lax security… Dark wizards running unchecked… national disgrace… Only the likes of Rita Skeeter would dare pen something like this mere hours after the tragedy… And only the Daily Prophet would publish it just as quickly."

"That woman has got it in for the Ministry of Magic!" Percy spat furiously. "Last week she was saying we're wasting our time quibbling about cauldron thickness, when we should be stamping out vampires! As if it wasn't specifically stated in paragraph twelve of the Guidelines for the Treatment of Non-Wizard Part-Humans—"

"Do us a favor, Perce, and shut up…" Bill said yawning, the hand with the Daily Prophet in it stretching over Ginny's head, "at least 'til after breaky."

Percy rolled his eyes at his eldest brother.

"I'm mentioned," Mr. Weasley sighed, rubbing his tired eyes behind his glasses as he slumped back into his chair.

"Where?" Mrs. Weasley sputtered, choking on her tea and whiskey.

"Not by name, but anyone who works at the Ministry would know it was me." Mr. Weasley replied with a rolling hand gesture.

"Yeah, yeah… Listen to this: " _If the terrified wizards and witches who waited breathlessly for news at the edge of the wood expected reassurance from the Ministry of Magic, they were sadly disappointed. A Ministry official emerged sometime after the appearance of the Dark Mark alleging that nobody had been hurt, but refusing to give any more information. Whether this statement will be enough to quash the rumors that several bodies were removed from the woods an hour later, remains to be seen_." That woman sure has some nerve writing this trash." Bill said, handing the paper over to Percy while Charlie helped himself to more porridge.

"Honestly, nobody was hurt! Thank our lucky stars, that's true enough! What was I supposed to say? Oh and what a laugh this gem is! Rumors that several bodies were removed from the woods… well, there certainly will be now she's _printed_ this dribble." Mr. Weasley sighed deeply in exasperation.

"The paper has to print a retraction," Hermione spoke up, "My parents have had to get a retraction for false information from the London Times on several occasions. Newspapers can't print rumor or speculation without legitimate sources to support their claims, named or anonymous. My parents had to call their litigator and everything, but it was always in the paper the next day or at least some time the same week that the London Times was taking back what they said about my parent's dental business or words taken out of context."

Percy looked very thought, but then shook his head. "No, they don't name Dad in it, so we can't get a retraction from them. We know, and they know that it's Dad. But they'll just claim it someone else. Thank you though, Hermione. Glad to see someone in the family takes this kind of stuff seriously."

Hermione blushed as vividly as the Weasley's red hair at being called one of the family. She put her hands over her mouth, and her eyes looked teary before she was engulfed in a tight hug by Mrs. Weasley that hid the bushy-haired girl away from the world. Mrs. Weasley rocked Hermione in her arms, whispering words to her that Harry felt much too heart-felt to eavesdrop on despite his ability to hear them well.

Harry instead returned his attention to the table, where Mr. Weasley was rising.

"Molly, I'm going to have to go into the office. I probably should have been there hours ago, but they'll have to forgive me the family time. This entire debacle is going to take some smoothing over."

"I'll come with you, Father," Percy said importantly, snapping to his feet as well as he wiped his mouth and threw down his napkin. "Mr. Crouch will need all hands to be on deck for this one. And I can give him my cauldron report in person."

Mrs. Weasley released Hermione from her mother bear-hug and turned to her husband with a most upset look. "Arthur, you're supposed to be on holiday! This hasn't got anything to do with your office; surely they can handle this without you?"

"I've got to go, Molly," Mr. Weasley said as he swallowed down the last of his drink. "I've made things worse. I'll just change into my robes, and be off. It might take a few hours, or only several minutes to help where I can. But if I sit here, it can only make matters worse."

"What about the Lovegoods and their guests?" Mrs. Weasley asked as she hustled after her husband, who was not slowing for her. "They'll be over for evening tea to talk about what happened. That's only a couple of hours from now! What am I to do? Cancel?"

"No, no!" the Weasley parents were moving out of sight up the stairs now as Harry and the others remained seated. "Entertain them until I get back. You're always so lovely at parties, Molly! You can chat up anyone with a story to tell, or a tale of your own! They may be strange, but I'm sure they'll like you a lot more than me."

"Oh, if you insist…!" Mrs. Weasley must have thrown up her hands by then, as she came back down stairs with an annoyed look on her blushing face. "Fred and George, get out the tables and put them to the yard. Charlie and Bill, help me in the kitchen. Ginny, make sure all the silver is clean for our guests, so hand wash it."

"What is Ron doing?" Ginny asked automatically before she could stop herself. It had to be reflex for a little sister, because she looked at Harry and Hermione with an apologetic expression the next second.

Mrs. Weasley shot her a look, and Ginny ducked her head from the sharpness of that expression. Harry figured this was normal family stuff, especially since he didn't quite understand what was going on.

"He will be clearing the yard of gnomes and anything else that might make a bad impression on Mr. Kenobi and Mr. Yoda." Mrs. Weasley swallowed hard at mentioning Yoda's name, but Harry could not imagine why. "Harry and Hermione, would you two be dears and help Ronald straighten out the yard for us?"

Before either friend could reply, Mrs. Weasley turned away from them just as she did her other children when she delegated their tasks to them. "Thank you, dears. Now, off you lot trot. And no one is to embarrass this family in front of our guests. I'm looking squarely at you two, Fred and George."

The twins stuck their tongues out at her, but were smiling none the less as they held the door for Ron, Hermione, and Harry to follow them out quickly.

* * *

"Is there something wrong with Yoda to you guys?" Harry asked once they were all nearing the shed and well out of earshot from the Burrow.

Ron and Hermione's reactions were almost exactly as Harry had imagined them. Hermione flinched, but didn't seem to find the accusation nearly as shocking as Ron did. Ron simply looked dumbstruck.

"Well, I thought he must be an elf from what Winky said about him up in the Top Box back at the stadium," she said, fidgeting on the spot. "But I also thought that it had to be someone else. I mean… the way Winky described him… he sounded ancient. Like some kind of elfin Saint Nicholas. Seeing Mr. Yoda in person was another thing thought. He appears old, but… Are you sure Yoda isn't just a name passed down to an elfin leader or sage or something? His name is actually Yoda?"

"As far as I know, yeah." Harry replied, shrugging. He didn't see what it mattered if that was his name or a title.

Hermione pursed her lips as she did some hard thinking. "Well, I mean, of course there is a powerful elf out there. There would have to be. I think the problem comes from Yoda being an _elf_ , not because he is powerful. The men from the Ministry that surrounded us seemed to acknowledge him as something of an equal. At least most of them… It's the same sort of prejudice that people have toward werewolves and vampires and other humanoid magical creatures, I think. It's just bigotry, isn't it?"

Ron looked as though he would have liked to reply scathingly, but perhaps he didn't want to argue about Harry's teacher when there was still so much he could learn from the wise old elf.

"So that Yoda guy is an elf. Big whoop!" Fred said while making a gesture that showed how little he cared. He opened the shed, then grabbed the table with the wobbly legs. "Elves aren't so different from us, except they get all in a hissy about humans polluting nature or something."

"Yeah," George agreed with his twin, grabbing the next table as the two rolled them out. "If Mr. Kenobi helped our lot out of the jam with that crazy woman with her weird red glowstick, then I say hooray for him. If he's friends with Mr. Yoda, then that guy has my respect, too. Elf or no elf, it takes guts to stand up to twenty or so fully trained and deadly Ministry wizards no matter, especially with how short he is. Not to mention Mr. Crouch of all people said that Mr. Yoda was to be respected."

Ron looked around at Harry, his expression serious. "My only question is why didn't you just come out and tell us that Yoda was an elf, Harry?"

"I didn't think it mattered really." Harry replied.

He knew immediately, from the look Ron was giving him, that he was once again revealing his ignorance of the wizarding world. Brought up by the Dursleys, there were many things that wizards took for granted that were revelations to Harry, but these surprises had become fewer with each successive year.

Now, however, he could tell that most wizards would not have basically said "So what?" upon finding out that they were learning from and becoming friends with a little green elf man.

"So?" Harry prompted Ron with an elbow. "What's the problem with elves?"

"Well, they're pretty much like Fred and George said. They hate humans for messing up the environment and stuff. But…" Ron struggled for the words as if they hung in the air just beyond his grasp. "Look, it's a pretty long story with everything else we've done to them and they've done to us. From wars to kidnapping babies, to simple things like enslaving their House elf cousins to them taking entire cities of humans beyond the stars to show them the folly of their ways."

"I'm amazed you find slavery and city-snatching as simple things." Hermione deadpanned with an arched eyebrow and her arms crossed.

"Hey, those wars and kidnappings were not light-hearted stuff!" Ron retorted, "They left scars on the planet! We have _Japan_ because of the war against elfin kind! Plus, the House elves came to humanity because some kind of red or blue star told them to, or something. And they came as servants from their own elf species anyway. I don't like it, but its part of history. Not to mention that Atlantis and Avalon are forever lost to wizarding kind beyond the stars to whatever barren planet the elves used magic to send them to."

"But you don't see anything wrong with Yoda _personally_ as an elf?" Harry asked, and Ron shook his head. "Then what's the problem?"

"Harry, I don't care about Yoda. He's teaching you stuff I want to learn. He seemed great, and it looks like he already has respect from the Ministry. The problem isn't with _him_ , its with elves in general! Blimey, sometimes I wish you two had grown up wizarding tots. Fred and George don't care because they probably think they can make a quick Galleon off Yoda and Mr. Kenobi."

"Oi, we resent that!" Fred looked highly offended.

"We plan to make loads off them with our ideas!" George smiled deviously, "Especially with Harry as our get-in for those two."

The others rolled their eyes at Fred and George's schemes.

"Ronald, just tell us the issue." Hermione said, shaking her head. "Is it Harry learning from Yoda _because_ he's an elf? Is there a problem involving the _laws_ around that kind of thing?"

"Yes! Thank you!" Ron said, throwing up his hands. "Harry, you wouldn't get in trouble, but Yoda could end up in front the Ministry for teaching you magic. It could be seen like those elves kidnapping royal baby princes and princesses hundreds of years ago!"

"But what does it matter if I learn to use the Force from him, or magic from Hagrid or Professor Lupin?" Harry asked with a bewildered expression, still not really grasping what was wrong about it all.

"Well… no one who knows you will care, 'cos we know you're not dangerous," Ron started slowly. "But… Harry, elves aren't what they used to be. There used to be elves that looked almost like Humans way back when. They were sneaky and vicious, but most of all smart. They turned wizards and humans against each other. They poisoned the minds of children against their own families. They didn't have the magical power to fight us because we were cutting down their forests where they drew power, so they used us to turn on one another. It was… it was really awful from the stories I used to hear when taking tours of the Ministry. There aren't any of 'em left in Europe now, though. Everyone thinks that all the true elves left Earth a long time ago. The ones that stayed were House elves because they were bound to wizards in servitude, and the forest elves that stir up trouble every now and then because humans are polluting their rivers and trees and stuff."

"What happened to them? The true elves, that is." Hermione asked, and Harry too was curious.

"Well, they were dying out anyway, and then loads got themselves killed by the Waxons, who were like an ancient group of Aurors. There're supposed to out in space beyond wizarding sight, though… It's said they return every century or so to inspect the Earth. To see if they can return in peace or to reclaim the planet… I don't know, but wizards haven't forgotten what they did just yet, so there's that…"

"Well, Yoda's been a great teacher thus far." Harry said, suddenly feeling the need to defend the only person willing to teach him outside of Hogwarts. It reminded him of his lessons with Professor Lupin in repelling the Dementors. "He's done nothing except push me to be better than I am every step of the way. I'm a better person for having met him, let alone learned from him."

"And we're not saying that isn't true!" Hermione put up her hands, "We're just saying that you need to be careful. Not for yourself, but for Yoda instead."

* * *

"They are quite right, you know." A new voice floated through the yard toward them. As Hermione and Ron turned to look over their shoulders at where the voice came from, Harry turned to his side to see Luna Lovegood standing in the middle of the yard where the wind would carry her voice in the other direction. "Master Yoda is powerful and ancient, but he is unfamiliar with the wizarding world's customs. There may come a day when he will need your help just as much as you need his."

"And if that day comes, I'll be ready." Harry said, his fist tight at his side. He couldn't stand the thought of the Ministry wizards looking down their noses at someone as wise and kind-hearted as Yoda. Even if the little green elf man was at times odd and perplexing, Harry would fight tooth and nail for him.

"Good. Because it is my hope that Master Yoda will complete my training just as he means to complete yours." Luna closed the distance between them, and Harry saw that she had her lightsaber clipped to the belt loop of her bell-bottom jeans. Now looking at the tool of the Jedi in the light of day, Harry thought it looked more like a silver flashlight than a weapon at any angle he turned his eye. It had a slightly wider opening area than the rest of it, and a slim base that ended with black seal cap.

There was a silence in which Ron fidgeted absentmindedly with a hole at the bottom hem of his Chudley Cannons sweater.

"Oh dear, I don't think we were properly introduced. What with everything that happened in the forest, that is. My name is Hermione Granger, and I'd like to extend my thanks as well for helping Harry fend off that vile woman." Hermione shook Luna's hand delicately.

"Hey there Luna. I don't think we've ever really talked, but I know you hang out with my sister sometimes. Ron Weasley, glad to officially meet ya." Ron said, giving Luna a firm hand shake and then pulling her in for a hug. "Thanks for helping Harry. That woman he was fighting was barmy."

"It is a pleasure formally greet all of you." Luna said back, smiling despite herself.

"Let me ask you something." Hermione jumped right in, "I noticed that you put a different inflection on the word Jedi than Harry has been using. Tell me, is that a regional aspect, or are there different ways of using the word?"

Luna giggled a little after hearing Hermione's inquisitive tone. Luna shook her head, blonde locks splashing around her face as she responded. "No, no. The Jedi and Je'daii are… well… basically the same Order. We both fight for peace, justice, and knowledge. The Jedi Order of present are just more… _modern_ than the Je'daii, but in a lot of ways they are also stuck in the past."

"Huh?" was all Harry could utter as he was confused by Luna.

"It would take a lot to explain the differences in the Order, one that gave rise to the other. To make a long story short, the Je'daii was tailored into the Jedi Order after a war against those that tried to conquer the universe using the powers of the Dark side of the Force. It was after this that the Je'daii Order forsook the Dark side as it led many of the Order's members to ruin. At first it was all about balance in one's self and their environment. This was the time of the Je'daii Order. But then it became about fighting the growing tide of evil that used the Dark side for their own nefarious purposes. That's what gave rise to the Jedi Order of today." Luna spoke with her hands behind her back.

"Umm, well that sounds… noble…" Hermione was a bit speechless to say the least.

"Yes, but I believe that while their intent was noble within the Jedi Order, their actions were still motived by the pain and grief they were recovering from at the time. They allowed themselves to forsake balance in favor of only the Light side of the Force. Where light shines brightest…"

"The darker shadows are cast…" Harry finished the quote, staring at Luna with a very serious look in his eyes. "That was something Yoda said in the first nights of my training. That simply because you want to do good, doesn't mean you abstain from committing evil."

Luna suddenly ducked her head, hiding her flushing cheeks as she was embarrassed for herself. "Yes, well, Master Yoda is wiser and more learned than any other Jedi alive today. If only we could record his wisdom for future generations… I can only imagine what training with him entails."

Harry rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. "Mostly a lot of exercises. Like running and lifting rocks. You'll get the hang of it pretty quick, I guess."

Luna deflated a little after that, but she recovered quickly. She cleared her throat to cover for her suddenly lapse of decorum. "I was sent ahead by my father to let you know that they will be coming around soon. They also wanted me to help set things up however I can. Just let me know where I can be useful."

Harry and Ron swept their gazes around the yard, but to be honest there were no gnomes or giant slugs in sight. Even Hermione looked a little underwhelmed with the lack of work to keep them busy.

"I think we're all a little useless at the moment. It kind of looks like we were sent out here with nothing to do." Ron shrugged, perfectly fine with the absence of manual labor.

"Oh… I see…" Luna said, looking a little down.

"I never really got the chance to thank you, myself, for what you did yesterday." Harry said, offering his hand to Luna, who blinked at it for a moment before taking it. Luna's grip was surprisingly steady, yet delicate. "You risked your life to help me. I don't think there are words to express just how grateful or concerned I am that you, a complete stranger, would do something so brave."

"That is what the Je'daii are supposed to do, Harry. We help people who we've never met. Defend those who cannot defend themselves. Sometimes… sometimes even at the cost of our own lives."

* * *

"Hmph. Easier said than done, you will fine, young one. A noble ideal, it is, but difficult to put to practice." Yoda hobbled through the grass with Obi-Wan Kenobi following at a respectful three paces behind. Obi-Wan's head was bowed. "For hundreds upon thousands of years did the Je'daii Order struggle to find balance within themselves and in their surroundings. But… when came darkness and evil too vile for them to overcome, shaken to their core they were. This was when the Jedi Order came to be. To deal with an evil the Je'daii had not been prepared for."

"Yes, Master Yoda," Luna said, and Harry noticed that her voice lost its airy quality, "But this was also when the Jedi sealed their fate. They lost sight of balance, and began to fear darkness as evil. One does not beget the other. Evil is relative to light just as much as it is to darkness."

"Hmm, yes. Right you are. Much wisdom you have, for one so young. But to know and see and to fight, different these are. To know evil, very hard." Yoda closed his eyes and shook his head. "More difficult even, to see and defy it. For every living thing, a personal battle it is. To know the darkness in themselves, but not let it give rise to evil. This is the test that the Force puts before us all… and a test to pass until our physical deaths, it is."

Harry felt the waves of shock rolling off Hermione and Ron without actively trying to touch their emotions with the Force. Though he supposed that bringing up death did that sort of thing for normal people. Harry knew he was no longer a normal person, despite how much he wanted that for himself.

Not after Voldemort tried to steal the Philosopher's Stone in his first year.

Not after a shadow of Voldemort's twisted soul tried to kill all the Muggleborns with a Basilisk in his second year.

And especially not after discovering Peter Pettigrew had betrayed his parents trust and friendship when everyone, including Harry himself, thought it was Sirius Black, Harry's godfather, for many years.

"A wise lecture to pass on, Master Yoda. However, I do believe there are things of greater importance to discuss at the moment." Obi-Wan spoke into the reflective silence that followed Yoda's words. "We must have words about what we sensed before arriving at the battle last night."

"Yes, this is true." Yoda nodded, then hobbled in front of Harry where he barely reached the height of the teen and his friends' knees. "But first, proper introductions are in order. Harry Potter, to your friends, introduce us. Much have I heard about them. Meet them formally, I feel I must."

"Oh, of course!" Harry felt mildly embarrassed that after saving their lives, he hadn't even properly gotten introduced to Mr. Kenobi, nor did his friends meet Yoda really. "Master Yoda, these are my best friends that I've told you all about. This is Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger. Ron, Hermione… this is Master Yoda, Jedi Master of the Jedi Order."

"A pleasure it is to meet you." Yoda shook the hands of Ron and Hermione, who stiffened instead of flinching away from his reptile-like little appendage. Yoda noticed it just as much as Harry and probably Luna with Kenobi as well. But no one said anything, and Yoda seemed accustom to people being uncomfortable with him at first. He simply smiled up at them and continued on as if all were normal. "Hmm, yes, much have I heard from Harry about you two. Very good friends you have been to him. To stand by his side through all his trials. Friendship, such as yours, found very rarely in the galaxy it is… A shame, it is… Cherish it, always, you must."

"Y-Yes sir." Hermione was the first to speak, even as her voice went a bit higher than normal.

"Y-Yeah… We'll do… that…" Ron was staring unabashed at Yoda's tiny frame, as if trying to keep a mental image of the elf for a later time.

"Hermione Granger, brightest student of your class, Harry has praised. Should be taking final exams instead of stuck helping him with homework, hmm?" Yoda teased, making Harry flush with embarrassment. This was not what he expected from their first meeting Yoda. If he had, Harry reflected that half their conversations would have never existed. "A mind as sharp as Gryffindor's sword, he has called yours. High praise, I suspect this to be. Not survived his first year without your quick wits, Harry told me. Well, much thanks I give you to keeping my witless student alive long enough to meet me, Hermione Granger. Hmm, yes, much thanks."

Now Hermione looked torn between outright laughter and utter embarrassment at all the praise Harry had given her intellect behind her back. With a face as red as Ron's hair, she nodded and managed to squeak out, "Th-Thank you, Mr. Yoda."

Then the meter-tall elf turned his attention to Ron, whose ears immediately went pink.

"Ron Weasley, a brilliant mind of your own, Harry has said. Not suited to study, but to what is put before you to overcome, yes. Remember you all must, that knowledge does not begin nor end with schooling. But see that, already, I sense from you, Ron Weasley. Told many stories of compassion and steadfast loyalty, Harry did. Of the time you followed him down into the Chamber of Secrets. Not only because of the imminent danger to your sister, but also to Harry himself. Listened, I did, to your sacrifice in the game of chess so your friends might advance and save your school. True to your convictions, and quite stubborn, from what Harry has share with me. Much courage I sense in you, Ron Weasley, hmm… A better friend to call brother, he would never find, said Harry. See this to be true, I do." Yoda closed his eyes and nodded his head.

By the time Yoda opened his eyes, Ron was already brighter than a tomato, his face hot and mouth sputtering incoherent sounds.

"Never knew… Blimey, Harry…" Ron managed to spit out before he ducked his head away from everyone.

"We've heard good things about you as well, Mr. Yoda." Hermione felt the need to say, offering the little green man a smile.

"Hmm, only can I hope. Told you of all the hard nights he worked, hmm? Difficult task master, was I, hmm? Yes. For his own good. Better now, he is. Stronger. Clearer in thought and more focused of mind. The Force offers much for us, but only if we attune ourselves to its voice."

"Which brings us very much to the present conversation." Obi-Wan gained attention smoothly as he stepped forward, putting himself beside Master Yoda as an equal. "Harry Potter, I am Obi-Wan Kenobi. Formal introductions between us can wait. Tell me, in your time away from Master Yoda, did you impart knowledge or exercises to your friends on how to feel the Force?"

Harry looked a little confused by the question, but nodded all the same as he looked first to Hermione and then Ron. "Umm, yes, I think. I mean, I did tell them about the Force and I put them through an exercise I did with Yoda about feeling the Force when you've no experience in it. Is there a problem with that?"

"Yes, there is." Obi-Wan spoke firmly, hands calmly folded together across his chest. "You should not have done that. You, yourself, are still but a Learner. You've no idea the ramifications your actions can or already have brought."

"I'm sorry, but I'm not following what you mean." Harry fought hard to remain calm in one and expression. He liked Mr. Kenobi, and the man did save his life. But who was this stranger to arrive in his life and dictate to him what he could and could not do like all the other adults around him. At least the others knew him for a few years before trying to command him, if not they were his teachers. But Mr. Kenobi was not his teacher or loved one. "Ramifications? Are you trying to say that what I did was wrong? All I did was let my friends get a glimpse into feeling the universe around them. The Force, as it was explained to me by Yoda, is free to everyone who has an affinity for it. I didn't know if they had one or not, and so put them through an exercise which they passed."

"An exercise which has opened them not only to the Force as a whole, but the seed of darkness that comes with it. You still have much to learn, young one." Obi-Wan had mastered the art of the disapproving eye many years ago, but it had little effect on Harry Potter, who was now narrowing his eyes up at the older man. Harry even stood up straight, which showed that he was tall for his age.

Luna wisely took a step back from the two men. Hermione and Ron followed her example a moment later.

"Are you calling my friends _evil_?" Harry stepped forward, but took a deep breath. This didn't stop him from glaring at Kenobi though. "My friends are not evil, and just because they felt the Force once for a few minutes doesn't mean they'll end up anything like that Eleanor Columbus woman."

"You don't know that. I don't even know, and I am a Jedi Master while you are not even a Padawan in my eyes." Obi-Wan turned his eyes to Master Yoda, who was calmly listening to the whole argument. "Master Yoda doesn't even know what the future truly holds. You have planted the seed which can _and_ _will_ grow. You had no oversight or permission to share what you learned under the tutelage of Master Yoda."

"I wasn't aware that I needed permission from an overstuffed shirt like you." Harry finally snapped, and he and Obi-Wan locked eyes fiercely. "I share with my friends everything less it would put their lives at risk. And what Yoda shared with me I didn't even want in the beginning. But I stuck with it, and became a better person for it. I decided to share that with my friends. The glimpse of fullness into a universe that could make us better people. More focused. I meditated on whether or not it was a good idea, because yes, at first; I didn't think it would be. But after weighing the pros and cons, I came to see that there was no harm in teaching them something for nothing."

"You showed them a world of possibilities, and in doing so gave them curiosity for what could come next. You _marketed_ the Force to them!" Obi-Wan made a slashing gesture with his hand. "And in showing them how to tap into the Force, you also believed that it would influence Master Yoda's decision in whether they should even be trained or not. You are tried to undermine the Jedi Order's Grandmaster of nearly one thousand years! Manipulate him into training them alongside you all because you wanted to play nice with your friends! The Force doesn't work like that! The Jedi don't engage in such childish underhanded trickery!"

"I don't know what the Jedi engage in because of the ones I met so far _you're_ the only one who seems to have a problem with me! Yoda hasn't even said a word with all your ranting and raving!" Harry gestured to the Jedi Grandmaster, who was still looking very calm while the two raged on both sides of him. "And I wasn't trying to do anything except show my friends what I was training in. Maybe it crossed my mind that they could be trained as well, but I would never ask Yoda to do something against his better judgement."

"Master Yoda trained you, not them. It was a gift that you have _spat_ upon the moment you got it in your head that you could go around as though a few lessons made you into a Jedi Master. You have much to learn, young one."

"Maybe I do, but for all your wisdom as a _Jedi_ _Master_ you sure seem to take personal offense to my existence. I can feel it. You think I should have never been trained by Yoda."

Obi-Wan threw his hands into the air while looking to the smallest among them. "He disrespects you by calling you simply Yoda, Master. Master Yoda, say something! Your student is right. I don't think he should have been trained, and he has yet to prove to me anything."

Yoda leaned on his gimer stick and made soft humming sounds as the others waited for his words.

"Know him, how long have you, Master Kenobi?" Yoda finally spoke, his eyes coming to rest calmly on Obi-Wan's face.

Obi-Wan sputtered. "Master Yoda—"

"Hmm? How long know him, hmm?"

"…Less than a day, Master…"

"Then keep my own judgement on who I will train or not." Yoda said, while Obi-Wan nodded. "Arguing with a boy, shame on you, Master Kenobi. Know that you are right, but make a spectacle of yourself in trying to prove it to one who has not the knowledge or experience to see your side of the argument. Thought better of you, I did. And to speak of respect… Much respect the boy has for me. Whether to call me Master or not, no difference this makes. Speaks the name Yoda he does, with great esteem. A difference of culture, it merely is. See this you would, if thought to look before you leaped."

"Yes, Master… Sorry, Master…" Obi-Wan did a small bow at the waist before stepping back three paces as Yoda turned his eyes sharply to Harry, who ducked his head as soon as he met Yoda's gaze.

Yoda smacked his thigh with the gimer stick, electing a yelp from the Potter boy.

"And you. Shame, Harry Potter. Great shame you bring me. Taught you, I did, when could have stayed hidden. Trained you in the Force, I did. Teach you the different between the light and the dark. Shared with you many lessons on the Jedi Order. Made you skilled in both body and mind, did I not? Yes, yes Yoda did. Tell me, did this for your friends, did you? No, think not I do."

Yoda saw Harry open his mouth to protest, and so hit him again with the gimer stick, this time near his ankle. "No. Master Kenobi, right he is in this matter. Know nothing you do of the Force. Only of what I taught you. How can you know, hmm? The future, _always_ in motion it is. This is why you must be mindful of the present. Hmm, yes."

"Yoda sighed deeply before putting both hands over his gimer stick. "A question I will pose to everyone here. A question, yes. To what ends would you go to protect the ones you love? Hmm, yes. A good question, it is…"

Harry was more than a little stunned by that.

"Well, you Jedi blokes don't do anything by halves, do ya?" Ron asked weakly, his mouth agape.

"There is no right answer to something like that… is there?" Hermione said, looking a little down.

"Correct, Hermione Granger. No right answer to such a moral question." Yoda nodded, his eyes closed softly. He pointed a finger to Hermione as he continued. "But, it is one the Force will ask of us every day. For a Jedi, to put ourselves in harm's way, is commonplace. As we grow, so too do the bonds we share with those we include into our lives. And so too, the shadow of greed that is often overlooked in this… Hold very close you do, Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley. What do you, if, _perhaps_ , not so kind was Yoda, hmm?"

With that same finger pointed at Hermione, Harry felt the ancient elf use the Force. He saw his friend lifted into the air… _by her neck_. Hermione's eyes went wide and panicked.

But before Harry could even think to move, everything seemed to shift, to distort. It was like coming out of a foggy half-asleep. Harry blinked a few times before shaking his head. He looked around him, and noticed that Hermione and Ron were staring off into the air vacantly. That was when he noticed that the spot they were staring at was exactly where Hermione should have been gasping for air, choking through the Force by Yoda. Turning toward the others with them, Harry noticed two very different expressions on the faces of Luna Lovegood and Obi-Wan Kenobi.

Kenobi looked shocked and appalled, but was attempting to hide his displeasure. Luna wore an open expression of wonder and amazement.

Harry shook his head once more, then passed a hand over his eyes to be sure he wasn't imagining things. He glanced back at the spot in the air where he was sure he had seen Hermione being lifted, then then his gaze flicked toward where she stood as motionless as a figurine.

Turning to Yoda, the little green elf nodded toward him, and somehow Harry knew exactly what to do. He looked between Hermione and Ron, then gently passed a hand through the air while imploring the Force, causing them to blink and rub their eyes.

Hermione reacted quickly, hands flying to her neck as she backed away with a gasp. Ron spun on spot, looking everywhere until he finally remembered that Yoda was only knee high. The redhead glared daggers at the ancient Jedi Master.

"Ease up, Ron." Harry grabbed his friend's arm and kept him in place with relative ease. "It was a trick. An illusion. Yoda only made us see what he wanted us to see; something that didn't really happen." Now it was Harry's turn to glare at his Jedi mentor. "Though why he decided to do something like that…"

"Hmm, posed to you a question, I did, correct? Yes." Yoda dropped the finger he had up with Hermione already moving well away from its direction. "To protect your loved ones, what would you do? Hmm, a difficult question it is. But with the Force, answered it you already have."

"What do you mean?" Harry didn't understand.

"Inside the illusion, your friends have seen but a stray alterative to the many futures that exist. Always in motion the future is, and a _very_ dark path that one was. One that Yoda had thought not of, but one that might still exist. Safe from the long shadow of the Dark side, are none. Not even Yoda." Yoda closed his eyes, ears flattening along his head where wisps of grey hair still existed.

"But what did you _do_?" Ron asked angrily, jerking away from Harry, and this time Harry did not try to continue holding him back. There was no need. Ron did not advance on Yoda. Clearly even Ron could see there was a lesson to be learned here.

And there was also the fact that Ron against Yoda would have been about as matched up as a candle in a rainstorm.

"What did I do, you ask. Hmm, feel the Force, I did. That is all. All it takes, sometimes, to accomplish one's goal. A fickle mistress is the Force, but a powerful ally in the best and worst of times. Opened a pathway to a future. A very remote future. One that should not concern you, as I abstain from it willingly every day."

Ron looked tired of Yoda's backward talk and riddles already, but Hermione seemed to catch on rather quickly. She cut Ron off with a look before she spoke instead. "I think what Mr. Yoda here is explaining to us is… the Force is strong, and… maybe sentient? Like magic. And all it takes is the ability to feel the Force to make one strong with it. And… t-that can set some people down an evil path where they do terrible things. Like with magic. But, it's a struggle. To be good, and not do evil with the Force. _Unlike_ magic."

"Hmm, yes, very smart indeed you are, Miss Granger." Yoda inclined his head toward Hermione, who still looked apprehensive about getting any closer to the elf man. "A struggle there is in all life. Through the Force, many things become possible. Many noble deeds and great gifts… But also, many terrible and cruel actions as well…"

Yoda lifted his gimer stick, and Harry was not the only one to flinch this time as all his friends did. Yoda pointed it at Hermione, who ducked away, but this time there was no use of the Force from Yoda. He was merely pointing it in her direction.

"Corrupt all, the Dark side can. Even the intelligent. You, Hermione Granger, with all your knowledge are very curious. Yes, see it clearly, Yoda does. Very strict and obedient. Always with the rules, you would follow. And when those rules and laws become cruel, so would you. Question them, you would, but your intellect would become a weapon of evil when society turns on its people."

Yoda then turned to Ron, who raised his chin a little higher than needed in defiance.

"And you, Ron Weasley, very courageous and loyal. Hmm, yes, very loyal. Save your family you would, but at what cost? See into your mind plainly, Yoda does. Nothing else matters, so long as safe your family is. Swear allegiance to any power that would guarantee such, you would. Break you inside it would, but care not for such heartache. Only your loved ones matter. A slave to the Dark side you would become, and every passing day a bit easier you would find it. A bit more pleasure you would take from it. Corrupting all at once, the dark side is not. But corrupting it is _absolute_."

When it cam time for Yoda's eyes to land on Harry, as he knew it would, Harry braced himself for Yoda's probing search into his very soul.

There came none.

It brought him up short, like expecting a pain where there was none.

"Hmm, expected something you did? No. Seen into you many times I have, my young apprentice. Need not search you for what I want to find. Come to know you, Yoda has. Mature for your age, you are. Seen much of pain, you have. But also of happiness, in recent years. Yours is the most dangerous, yes. If not careful are you, then blind you can become to the trees in the forest. Make the end justify the means, you would. Bring great pain to all around you if act in haste you do. Good and evil, mere concepts they are to most. But to you, _very_ _real_ they are. And yet, where is the line? Hmm? Not in the sand, it is. Not drawn for one to see. And cross it you _would_ without ever knowing it. All because you believe good will come of it in the end. That peace and stability would come at the end. Where is the end? Yoda knows not. _You know not_!"

If Harry had believed not feeling Yoda search his feeling had brought him up short before, now he was being bowled over by what was just revealed to him.

That couldn't be right… Could it?

Harry would never turn to evil. Evil was Voldemort, the man who had taken Harry's parents from him and so many loved ones from so many others.

Was it really true that he could become something so… _vile_? And then not even realize it?

Was that even possible? Yoda certainly seemed to think so.

Yoda gave a weary sigh as he leaned heavily on his gimer stick. He turned to Obi-Wan, who stepped forward just a meter ahead of the Grandmaster. "Here is Master Kenobi. Train you all, he will. In the aspect of what is physical, he will be your Jedi Master. Survive an advisory role, I will. Ready is no one for the struggle inside themselves. A daily struggle, it is. But prepare you all to handle such a burden, Master Kenobi and I will help. A powerful ally, is the Force. Welcome all into its embrace, the Force does. The energy of the very universe it is. Of all living things. And like all energy, used for good or evil, it can be. And a most powerful energy it is. A most powerful power, it is. And all power corrupts those not wary of its allure."

At this point, even Mr. Kenobi seemed very taken in by Yoda's every word as they were all turned to the little green Jedi Master.

"Prepared are none to feel the Force. But once felt, answer its call all must. Perhaps fate it was that trained Harry and to pass on that knowledge to Miss Granger and Mister Weasley, it was. Hmm, yes, perhaps. But an easy route, this will not be. Train hard and with great patience will you all learn. When ready is Master Kenobi, begin in earnest your training will."

With that said and done, Yoda concluded his time with them all as he gave a final weary sigh and then began hobbling off toward the Weasleys' home where he was greeted at the door by Mrs. Weasley, who only hesitated for a second upon seeing Yoda before ushering him inside with a fuss about how someone of his obvious age shouldn't be out in the cold without more layers on.

* * *

The five of them stood around in silence for a while, no one saying anything as they all reflect on Yoda's words more deeply than they probably would later give credit.

After what seemed like an hour, but in truth was probably half the time, Harry found his voice and gave such to the question he had in his mind.

"Mr. Kenobi," Harry started awkwardly, seeing as before Yoda had laid a bed of wisdom at all their feet he was having a shouting match with this man, "what was that power Yoda used? I've never seen him use it before. That was… new."

The Jedi Master gave a strained sort of smile, as if it pained him to have such an expression. "Not surprising, young man, as I have never seen Master Yoda employ such an ability before myself. But I do know of it. While he did, indeed, show us a remotely possible future, what he did to project it into all our minds is the power at play. Back in the Jedi Order, this power was classified as Alter Mind."

"Alter Mind? Does that mean he invaded our brains?" Ron looked horrified, but Kenobi shook his head.

"Hardly, young man. You see, my new students, Jedi skills in the Force are rooted in three areas. Control is internal. It is the Jedi's ability to recognize the Force in himself and to use it to his benefit."

He then gestured toward Hermione, "Sense involves the next step, in which the Jedi recognizes the Force in the universe outside herself. Here she feels the Force and is able to draw upon it for information about the world around her. Through it she is connected to the rest of the universe."

Kenobi turned completely to Harry. "Alter is the third and most difficult area to master, for it involves the student's ability to modify the Force and redistribute its energies. Through these skills, the Jedi can influence the universe, making changes as needed to accomplish our goals. The power known as Alter Mind bridges all these skill areas. Through it Master Yoda projected his perception of reality into our minds. An illusion or conclusion that he needs others to hold as true in thought and sight. This is a most magnificent and useful power, but it is also one fraught with danger. Bending the will of another for a benign purpose can be noble and good. The dark side lurks nearby in this power, so it should be used with caution."

Harry blinked his eyes, and so did Hermione and Ron.

"W-Well, that's very interesting." Hermione said as Kenobi nodded.

"Yes, yes, it is… Master Yoda has never used that ability before… At least, as far as I know. It is not a normal power a Jedi would employ. Especially given what he showed us. I must apologize that he used such a thing as a teachable moment, Hermione Granger. I can feel you are still distressed about it."

"It just felt a little _too_ real, is all." Hermione said, her hand twitching. Harry was sure she was trying hard not to unconsciously rub at her neck.

"But it was _not_ real. This you must understand. The Force can do many things as Master Yoda stated. Noble and good, but also terribly cruel and evil. A similar power is more in-line with our Jedi teachings. It is called the Mind Trick. It is a simple suggest or command that you pass off to someone through the Force, making them believe it is their own. It is more like convincing someone than bending their will."

"I remember having my uncle in front of me a little before I left my training with Yoda. He didn't want me to come here, and I was wishing with all my might that he accept me leaving and he did."

The Jedi Master's eyes narrowed for a moment. "You think you unconsciously tapped this power before you began training in it?"

"I guess so. Is that bad?" Harry bite the inside of his cheek to stop himself from mocking the Jedi Master.

"No…" Kenobi replied hesitantly, seeing Harry's expression and realizing his own mistakes in their meeting so far. He smiled at Harry, hoping it appeared as natural and friendly as it used to around his fellow Jedi. "Actually, it is very good. It means that the Force is very strong within you, Harry Potter. It would also explain some things… As I said, it's a very powerful Force ability, and Mind Trick is a very useful one for the Jedi to have practice in using. Anyways, some individuals show a certain aptitude for areas of Jedi power. Meaning they have an inborn talent for it. It could be your talent falls into this area."

"Well… that sounds good, huh." Ron spoke up, finally starting to relax a bit now that Yoda was gone. "It's always good to know what magic you're good at. My mum is great with house charms and cleaning spells. It's good to have aptitude in something. I'm plain rubbish at potions and most charms."

"Yeah, but I'm not certain how adept I want to be at influencing minds." Harry replied as Kenobi stroked his chin with a hum.

"Just because you have a talent for it doesn't mean you will always succeed." Kenobi grinned somewhat sheepishly. "There are those who you can influence, such as the weak-willed and species that are similar to humans. But others you will find infinitely more difficult. Those whose thought patterns are a bit further from human than some. So, in truth, success is not guaranteed. Yet you must remember: Do or do not. There is no try."

"And we should also take the caution about the Dark side to heart as well." Hermione stepped forward, herself coming to relax.

"Yes, Miss Granger. Absolutely." Kenobi crossed his arms and smiled at her. "I know Master Yoda speaks in riddles sometimes, but once you've come to know him and are well on the path to becoming Jedi yourselves, you will understand exactly what he means… most of the time. Heh, anyways. Yes, the Dark side is to be guarded against. It is seductive for those who want too much too fast. If you don't control your more negative emotions, then the Dark side will fill you quicker than you realize."

Harry was beginning to notice that Kenobi eyes were not meeting theirs at any point. He always looked at the corner of their mouths or over their hair if he was talking to any one of them. "As I train you all, I want you to be very careful about how you employ the Force. I would like you to team up with each other. To work together and help one another if there is ever something you cannot overcome alone. Talk to one another. No secrets. No mixed feelings. Nothing left unsaid or too unclear. That can be… _disastrous_ … You must learn to trust each other without fault. Trust and be _trustworthy_ , my new students. Am I understood?"

The four young teenagers looked between themselves, all nodding with varying degrees of bewilderment. This sounded almost personal to their ears.

Kenobi bowed to them at the waist in both a show of budding respect and a form of departure to conclude their time together. In the next moment, the Jedi Master turned on heel and swept away from them and toward the Burrow where Mrs. Weasley greeted him with the same hesitance that she gave Yoda. This is right before she started to mother Obi-Wan as well, telling him that he spent too much time out in the cold and needed to wash up for the supper she was planning.

* * *

"Not gonna lie." Ron said as soon as the back door to the Burrow was closed, "I like that Obi-Wan Kenobi guy and lot better than Yoda at the moment. Not because he's _human_ , but that whole dark future thing had me more than a little ready to fight that elf."

"Yoda's never done that before, though." Harry retorted. "With me it was always a bunch of exercise and meditating."

"I think he wanted to give us a practical lesson in the Dark side." Luna spoke up as she put her hands together in front of herself calmly. "To show that we shouldn't reach for more power than we can handle. That way we take his lessons very seriously."

"Still could have used anyone but Hermione as an example…" Ron muttered, but Harry instantly saw that was the point.

"But any one of us except Hermione wouldn't have worked." Harry understood with startling clarity. "Think about it. Hermione isn't a threat to anyone."

"Hey!"

"Sorry," Harry apologized quickly before moving on. "Luna isn't close to any of us, and no offense Luna, but you sound like you worship Yoda."

"None taken."

"You, Ron, would be sour about the vision for a while, but you'd have thought it was a cool trick after a few minutes. Probably something you could use against Malfoy."

"I was actually starting to think that…"

"And I barely fell for it for a second. You guys would have been worried, but not nearly as much as we worried for Hermione in that instance. Even Hermione is worried. You were flinching away from Yoda the entire time afterward. Yoda knew with barely any time in front of us that the person we'd worry the most for was Hermione and that she'd be the most rationale about it afterward. Even while I was questioning what Yoda was doing or even why he would do such a thing, Hermione came to the answer instantly, even while still shaken by it."

"Got it. I'm the smart and reasonable one." Hermione smiled as her cheeks went pink. " _However_ , next time an example needs to be made, I do hope they give me some warning. Trick or not, it still felt frightening. Let Ron be guinea pig next time."

"Hey! Don't put that stuff on me!" Ron shook his head, but there was the trace of a smile on his face. "Harry is the one who befriended the crazy little elf!"

Harry smiled himself, gesturing calmly to Luna. "Yes, but Luna here is all too happy to learn from Yoda. You said so yourself. Who better to be his assistant in demonstrations."

Luna snickered lightly for a moment. "But have we not come to the conclusion that Hermione is the best among us. Yoda praised her intellect. He didn't even acknowledge my presence. I suppose I will have to wait a long time before I receive the same treatment as you, Hermione Granger."

"We are all such awful people." Hermione laughed, and the previous tension that hung over them melted away if only a little.

Ron turned to Harry, a grin on his face. "Got to admit, though, mate. You were right about one thing. I do have a sudden temptation to make Malfoy think he's already dressed when he's not. Reckon that's the Dark side trying to corrupt me?"

"No," Harry shook his head with a chuckle, "That's just you, being the Ron we all know and tolerate lovingly. Though I will say don't do that sort of thing… at least until you have it well in hand. I'm more than sure Malfoy falls into the category of weak-minded individuals."

Luna perched her lips a little before tilting her head. "You still think like the Force is magic. That the two are one and the same. But they are not. Magic is a plaything next to the powers of the Force. A mere illusion in comparison. And I should warn you that Jedi powers are not for playing pranks. Later on, testing ourselves against each other will hone our skills, but we have to work together at it. Your rivalry with Draco Malfoy concerns me. It is a distraction."

Ron held his hands up, though he gave Luna roll of his eyes as well. "Blah, I don't consider Malfoy a _rival_. He's a _toad_. Spoiled rotten and a bully to boot. I don't like him. But am I going to kill him? No. He's not worth it. Will we ever become friends? No, I don't think ever in this life or the next. But could I see myself managing to work with him in Potions class or something? Yes, if I _absolutely_ had to do it."

Luna lowered her head for a moment. "Malfoy has a lot of hardships in his life. You may think because he has wealth and material objects at his disposal that he's a bad person, but as a Jedi you must understand that everyone is not exactly what they seem. Did you ever think that his bad attitude stems from some negativity within his home? Perhaps next time you encounter him, you can try showing him no resistance. If he is as bad as you claim, then he will leave you alone. But if he is looking for attention, then he will make it known. Watch his actions. Listen to his words. When a Jedi shows patience, they can uncover a lot about a person that lies below their surface. He cannot beat you physically. So, if you don't give rise to his taunts, then you have already won against him. Show him that you are the better person, and if he is a bad one… then he will suffer more from your inaction than any reaction."

"That was very insightful, Luna!" Hermione was beaming. "I swear, I've been trying to explain it to him for years now, and you just summed it all up perfectly!"

"Well the way Luna puts it, I'm better than Malfoy, and all I have to do is ignore him to prove it. I can ignore that ragweed all day, any day of the week!" Ron returned his gaze to Harry, in a better mood now than before. "Come one, mate, and have a game of Quidditch in the orchard with me."

"Oi, you lot!" came Fred's voice as he, George and Bill were making their way across the yard. "Talking quidditch now, aye? Well count us in! Three on three! Charlie will be out in a second. Talking to Mr. Kenobi about some kind of riding lizards or something. Anyways, I wanna see Harry pull off that Wronski Feint from the World Cup. Just bet me dear brother Gred here a galleon that he could do it on the first try."

Harry nodded before rushing off toward the Burrow. "Hang on, I'll get my Firebolt."

Hermione turned to Luna, who shrugged just as helplessly. "Honestly, all they think about are sports and such. I'm glad there's another girl around with me and Ginny. Trying to get these boys to talk about anything of substance for more than five minutes is like pulling teeth. And I should know, being the daughter of two dentists."

"Well, my father is the editor-in-chief of his own magazine. Maybe you've heard of it. It's called _The Quibbler_." Luna said, and Hermione had to hide a grimace. Yes, she had heard of the paper, but felt that her budding friendship with Luna Lovegood would go over much better if she kept her opinions about the lunatic rag to herself.

"Oh yes, I've heard of it. Quite the paper, I've heard." Hermione said, keeping the strain out of her voice.

"Well, we do market ourselves as the Wizarding World's alternative voice for a reason. I understand if you haven't heard the best of things about it, but we hold truth to what we believe. And when the need arises, we've printed the real events and truths that mainstream media like the _Daily Prophet_ has tried to hide." Luna took Hermione by the arm, showing a disregard for personal space as she led the older girl toward the Burrow where her father was just arriving. "Perhaps you'd like to talk about those instances more than our search for the elusive Crumple-Horned Snorkack. Of course, you can always hear about it, that is, if you like?"

Instead of answering the question, Hermione showed her blatant interest in suppressed news stories. "What could the Daily Prophet be hiding from the people?"

Luna looked a little disappointed, but engaged her fellow female in the conversation all the same. "Well, just last month there was a nasty encounter between a group of Hit Wizards and a peaceful pack of werewolves. It all started over some land dispute by a wealthy wizard who wanted the werewolves gone from their ancestral, so…"

* * *

 **A/N: And so we have it. The start of something new. Everyone is learning to accept a bit more than they are used to previously in their lives.**

 **Any questions, comments, or concerns? REVIEW!**

 **Until Next Time, See Ya!**


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